Bridge Throughout Time
by Princess Alethea
Summary: There's a new King and Queen of Terabithia...In the present day,2 new kids find Terabithia. Will the magic still exsist? Are the imaginations of modern kids good enough? And what happened to the original King, Jesse Aarons? FINISHED
1. Moving House

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except Alex and Tristan and their relatives. Terabithia belongs to Katherine Patterson, of course. **_

It started with a bridge.

A beautiful, wooden, handmade bridge. Faded with age but still robust as the trees that surrounded it. It was the bridge that saved me and Tristan, for it lead to a sanctuary, a world untouched by anyone else.

Before all that, I suppose it began with me moving house.

This was not your ordinary move, either. This was life changing, end of the world type of move. And my mother thought everything would be OK with a wide smile and assurances of 'adventures' and 'new experiences'. Clearly, Mother thinks I was born yesterday, but what difference did it make? Within the month we were in America, my old life in England gone forever and me left with nothing but broken pieces to collect and attempt to re-build my sanity. Mother had not warned me we would be moving to a backward town in the middle of nowhere either. Lark Creek, I'd never even heard if it before it became my new permanent address. Washington wasn't far off and I could really see no reason why we hadn't at least moved there. The house we moved into was made entirely of timber and creaked with age, all three storeys of it. Most of the floor was white timber. The walls were fairly bare, except for the living room where the walls were painted pure gold. At first I thought whoever had once lived in this house had obviously had colour scheme problems. Little did I know I would one day sit in that room at sunset and learn the magic that a single coat of paint can create.

"Isn't this lovely," Mother had gushed.

"Yes, Mother," I sighed.

Mother frowned. I usually called her Mum or even Carly, her first name, but since she had broken the news to me about moving I had begun calling and thinking of her as 'Mother'. Even the smallest, most childish revenge was sweet.

"Be a good girl and go and bring this to the neighbours," she had said, holding out a picnic basket filled with banana muffins.

"What's this supposed to be? A peace offering so they won't steal our lawn space and dob us in to the police for noise pollution?"

"No, it's simply a token of kindness."

I snorted, but quickly darted out of the house, glad to have any reason to escape Mother's overly cheerful attitude.

It turned out we only had one neighbouring house. It resembled a run-down farm. A greenhouse still stood half-erected and there was a rusty tractor parked alongside the main house. The quickest way there was across an empty paddock that was predominately brown. It had probably once held a horse or a cow. Upon reaching the door I took a deep breath but made no attempt to smarten myself up. Judging by the state of the house these people weren't exactly fanatical about neatness. I knocked on the door and began to ponder what their financial situation must be, but before I even could the door swung open and in the doorway stood a scowling boy with long brown hair, green eyes and a smattering of freckles.

That was the first time I met Tristan DeLazio.

_**Hope the start wasn't too slow. Suggestions are always welcome, so please review.**_


	2. Tristan

He stood there, without saying even a single word of greeting, all the while staring at me as if I were some repulsive life form. As you may had been able to sustain, my first impression of him was not exactly in his favour.

"Hello," I decided to say pleasantly. "We've just moved in next door..."

"The Burke's place?" he grunted.

"I wasn't aware it was called that."

"It always had been. No one ever stays there for long. It's haunted."

I ignored this. "My name's Alex."

"Short for Alexandra?"

I have a short temper. I'm not proud of it, but its part of me. And this insufferable boy was quickly burning out my fuse. "What's it to you?"

"My name's Tristan," he said by way of answer. "Now are you going to hand that basket over or what?"

"Jerk," I muttered, loud enough for him to hear. His scowl deepened. I shoved the basket at him. I could see past him into his house and I really had no intention of entering it anyway. The walls were thin and it smelt strongly of beans. Deciding that this boy really wasn't worth my attention I turned on my heel and set off back towards my house. I could feel the boy – I mean, Tristan's eyes boring into me so I began running. I've always been quite a fast runner and it helps when you're small and light. The paddock fence was up ahead, but I didn't slow down my pace. Tristan shouted out a warning but I played deaf and with a running leap, cleared the fence in one go. There was no need to look back. I knew I'd won his respect.

"How were the neighbours?"

"Oh, wonderful," I said sarcastically.

"I'm sure they'll be better once you get to know them," my mother chided me. I stalked off to my room.

The next day I was required to go to school. The best part was that in America, no uniform was required, so I dressed in half length jeans and a t-shirt. The worst part was that there was only one Middle School in Lark Creek: the local public one. Mother drove me on the first day but reminded me that hereinafter I would be catching the bus. Joy. Within three miles of our new home there was a school and almost had a heart attack.

"That's Lark Creek Junior High?"

It was nothing but a few rundown buildings and a brown field surrounded by a fence that had definitely seen better days.

"No, silly. That's Lark Creek Elementary."

This revelation did nothing to settle my stomach. I was no longer sure Lark Creek was in the 21st century.

"This is your new school."

I cringed. It was an exact replica of the elementary school, just with a few more buildings and a larger oval. I climbed slowly out of the car, dreading every second of my first day. Mother took me to the headmasters office. I was introduced and given a timetable and dejectedly headed off to my first period English class. Of course, from the moment I opened the door, twenty-five pairs of eyes followed my every move. Had they heard about me? Would I become the rich girl, the Brit, the freak?

The teacher greeted me warmly and looked around the classroom for a spare seat. I spied one before she did.

_Oh Lord no, no please..._

"Ah, here we are. Why don't you sit over there, next to –"

_Please, God, no..._

"Tristan."

I screwed up my hands into fists. My nightmare continued.


	3. The Broken Rope

_**Have realised my chapters could be longer – my bad. The reviews so far have been great guys, thanks. I will go back and edit my first two chapters ... when I figure out how to do that. **__****__** The usual disclaimer applies. Enjoy!**_

I spent my entire first morning at Lark Creek Junior High not saying a single world. I did not raise my hand to answer a question. I did not attempt to silence the girl behind me who was loudly gossiping about some mindless-rubbish. And I most certainly _did not _talk to the insufferable boy I had been placed beside.

Tristan.

Even his name had become synonymous in my head with the word 'jerk'. That and some other far more unpleasant words which I would hopefully have the honour of throwing in his face sometime in the future. At recess I wondered aimlessly around the school, getting my bearings. This was quite an easy feat seeing how amazingly small the school was. There wasn't one part of it that looked so incredibly run down and in need of a fresh coat of paint.

How I longed for my old school. Yes, in all senses it had been the snob school, but it was what I was used to. The long corridors, hall, computer rooms and even the starched uniform had always felt so familiar to me. This was more than just moving house or schools. This was more like adapting to an entirely new planet.

Back in class, I continued up my morning code of silence. It was quite easy to keep my head down until –

"Oi, new girl, I need a pencil. Cough up."

"You know my name," I hissed.

"Is it bi–"

"Don't you dare, freak!"

I wasn't about to sit here and let him treat me like dirt on the sole of his shoe. No how, no way, no as a fox, Tristan's hand snaked across to my desk and he snatched up one of pencils.

"Give that back," I snarled. He had just gone over the limit.

Tristan just grinned.

"Give it back or I'll – !"

"Alexandra!"

"Alex," I corrected Mrs Trent politely.

"Alex. You should not be talking."

"Yes, miss," I said, trying not to sound meek. It was not like me to be put in my place. Just like yesterday, I could feel Tristan's eyes boring into me and I knew he was having silent fits of laughter at my expense.

I never got my pencil back.

That afternoon, I jumped quickly off the bus, aware that Tristan was right behind me. I swore I could hear him laughing softly. I ran off towards my house and darted through the front door into the safety of my home. I mumbled a quick reply to my mother when she queried me about how my day had been and told her I was going for a walk. I seriously needed the fresh air. There was an empty field behind our house and I could see a forest in the distance. I felt like exploring so I headed off in that direction. Again, I lamented the fact we had not moved to somewhere a bit more upmarket. I'm sure in Washington I could have organised to meet my new friends at the local store after school. Or maybe I could have had a chat session on MSN. I had already discovered there was no mobile phone signal at our new house.

I missed my old life terribly. I had had only a few friends from the private school in England I had attended, but they had been amazing, close friends. We had always been so creative. Not once can I remember us going to a movie or playing on the computer. Every day we were outside, roving around in the back yard, finding our own fun. I can safely bet that no other child has played Princesses and Knights and what not to the same extent that I have. Even when we turned thirteen we still –

"Alex!"

I swung around in the direction of the voice. Sure enough, there was Tristan himself, sitting on the fence of our paddock. "What are you doing here? This is our property, get lost!"

"Temper, temper?"

"What are you doing, stalking me?"

"You wish, new girl."

My fuse had all but burnt out. It frustrated me to no end that there was no immediate and obvious way I could wipe that smug smirk off his face. I considered tipping him off the fence he was perched so precariously on, but I knew he would see that coming a mile off. So I decided to continue yelling and insulting him. "Leave me alone, then!"

"Gladly. Just thought I should warn you, that forest you're walking towards that is really haunted."

Damn, he had gotten my curiosity. "Why?"

Tristan walked towards me. "I don't know if I feel like telling you..."

I almost screamed in exasperation and started running off towards the forest. He followed me and by God, he was fast. But I was faster. The forest was separated from the field by a creek through which a gentle stream of water was trickling. I wondered if the creek would fill to near flooding during the wet season. That would be pretty exciting. Than with a sigh, I realised I had no idea where the wet season took place around these parts.

There was a crab apple tree to my right and from it hung a rope. The rope was very short and frayed, which was disappointing. Up above, the afternoon sunlight was streaming through the trees and for a moment I could picture what it would have been like, swinging across the creek on that rope, my face turned upwards to the warm sun. I cursed the rope again for being so short.

"It must have deteriorated with age," I mused aloud.

Tristan shook his head. "It snapped."

"But then...?"

I was confused. How had it snapped? Had someone swung on it? If so, then who? A child?

Tristan looked me dead on. His arrogant gaze was really starting to get to me. Then he said, "Do you know the story of Leslie Burke?"

_**Review, review... **__****_


	4. Across the Bridge

I frowned. I hadn't, of course, heard the story of Leslie Burke and I failed to see at that very moment why the story of some guy – or girl... Leslie was one of those names that could go either way. Then again, I couldn't talk. My nickname, Alex, was just as ambiguous as Leslie was. Truth be told, when I was younger, people had sometimes mistaken me for a boy. Even now, with my pixie hair cut and down-graded, baggy dress code, people still looked twice. I never minded this, in fact I preferred it. It made sure no one would ever dare call me a 'girly-girl'. Tomboy was a far more comfortable label.

I came to realise Tristan was waiting patiently for my response. I delivered it with my usual amount of manners when it came to him. "No of course I haven't heard about Leslie Burke. What has he – or she – got to do with anything?"

"She," said Tristan, and I immediately felt a stronger connection to this unknown girl. Than Tristan began telling her story and I have to admit, he had a way with words. They seemed to flow freely from his mouth and perhaps it was an effect of the dappled sunlight, but I was entranced by the power of the story.

"Leslie Burke moved into the house you currently live in a long time. No one ever stays long at that house, but her story had become what you could call a 'tragic legend' around these parts."

I shivered slightly. I didn't like the sound of 'tragic legend.'

"Leslie attended Lark Creek Elementary and was apparently a model student. She was quite outlandish and opinionated, or so the stories go. Every afternoon she used to play down here near the creek and swing on the rope. It was perfectly safe in the dry months but then, after her first Easter here, the wet season began."

"Which is...?" I interrupted. I hated being in the dark.

"After Easter, or there about. Anyway, it rained for days on end and this creek filled up. Despite that Leslie continued swinging on the rope, day in and day out."

I half felt like running away. I could see where this story was going and I was not sure she wanted to let the ending confirm my fears. Something about Tristan's words kept me rooted to the spot.

"One morning, with the rain till pouring down as hard as ever, Leslie tried to swing across the flooded creek. She never made it to the other side. The rope snapped and Leslie was sucked into the strong river."

_Please, say she was OK, _I thought desperately. _Say someone saved her._

"She drowned in the creek, after hitting her head on a submerged rock. Leslie Burke never saw her eleventh birthday."

I closed my eyes and tried not to cry. It truly was a tragic legend. The poor girl, she had been doing nothing wrong. There was no harm in wanting to play in the rain, or swing on a rope. She was just adventurous, like – like me.

When I was seven, I had been playing in the tree house my Father had built me before he left in our backyard in England. My friend, Clara, had been there and I was showing off. The tree house itself was strong, but I had clambered out on to one of the branches that surrounded it. Clara's words of protest and fear only egged me on and I climbed further and further out.

I remember the branch cracking and I remember the terrible fall to the ground. I'll never forget the pain I felt when I landed, unprotected on the hard ground. I blacked out moments later and woke up in hospital the next day with a broken leg. It took me years to regain my adventurous spirit and the only real turn-around came when I realised all I had to do was draw the line between being daring and being stupid. I promised myself that I would never again cross that line.

"And that's why your house is haunted," concluded Tristan in a matter of fact tone.

I was literally shaking by that pint and normally I'm not scared of anything. In my mind's eye I could see a young girl (who my subconscious made into a replica of a ten-year –old me) swinging on a rope. I saw the rope snap and felt myself go tumbling down into a watery oblivion. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see... I snapped myself into focus and tried to sound tough when I spoke. "How do you know all that? That's a fair bit of detail for an urban story."

"It's a well known story, everyone tells it in Lark Creek. I mean, if you haven't noticed, Lark Creek is a small town – "

"I've noticed," I said quietly.

"Then you'll understand that nothing interesting ever happens. But when something does come up, everyone instantly knows about it and no one ever forgets."

Again, is stood an let the depth of Tristan's words sink in. It dawned on me this was the longest we'd gone so far without fighting. While I contemplated this, I came to realise that I was staring straight at a log that had fallen across the creek not too far away.

"Wait," I whispered.

"What?"

"Up there...on that log. Someone had built a bridge." I was off before I evened finished my sentence. I ran along the bank of the creek. Wind whipped against my face and Tristan followed, hot on my heels. I reached the bridge and stopped at its edge, suddenly frightened to go any further. Tristan pulled up beside me.

"Why'd she use the rope to cross if the bridge was already here?" he asked.

"Maybe she enjoyed swinging on the rope. Or maybe the bridge was built after – after she died."

"Looks pretty old to me."

"What are you, and expert on bridges?"

"Maybe I am."

We both stared at each other, seething. He got under my skin so easily, it really wasn't fair. My words seem to have no affect on him. Life is full of injustices.

"Well I don't think it looks that old," I said, lying through my teeth. The bridge did actually look fairly worn. It was dull in colour and covered with a smattering of mould. Even the log that supported it looked well past it's use-by-date.

"Then why did you stop?" Tristan taunted me. "Scared?"

"No!" And with that I stepped onto the bridge and began walking across it. It was fairly wide, but there were no hand rails or footings – it was simply a few pieces of timber nailed to a fallen tree. I reached the other side in record time. There really had been nothing to be afraid of. Tristan joined me on the other side and for a moment we just stood there, reflecting on our small triumph.

"Ha," I said with a smirk.

"Fine, fine. We're now on the other side, happy?"

"Sure am..."

With those words, the truth sunk in. I realised with a sickening jolt exactly where we were. Once more I saw the rope break and the water surround me. But instead of a scream I heard a girl laughing, the high, sweet sound echoing off the trees of the forest she had played in.

Leslie's forest. The haunted forest.

The one we were now in.

_**Couple of quick notes (sorry!):**_

_**Thank you so much to DeathGirl666. You are awesome; every improvement is thanks to you.**_

_**To all who are reading, you guys rock. I wish I could give you all a bar of chocolate and a trip to Disneyland. Instead, I hope you enjoy the story and it helps you discover the Terabithian that's inside all of us.**_

_**Review, please, as always. I don't mind constructive advice, of course; anything that makes the story better is more than welcome.**_


	5. The King and Queen

"Do – do you want to go back?"

At first, I wanted nothing more than to turn around and run, even to scream. But as I stood there, the truth slowly sunk in. The forest didn't feel haunted. In fact, it felt almost comforting. Sunlight still streamed through the trees and made shadows dance on the ground. The wind whistled through the branches and rustled the leaves, but not in a way that was even remotely frightening. The forest felt like an old friend, one greeting me after a long, long time.

"No," I said, a smile unfolding on my face, "let's explore."

Tristan paused. He looked quite uncertain, but then I saw the magic of the forest take its toll on him, too. The apprehension on his face melted away, and his eyes lit up with the thought of adventure. I wondered briefly what made the forest so special. Magic, of course, was the first word that came to my head, but I wanted a proper, more adult-like response.

I decided to dwell on that later. "Come on!"

I set off into the thicket, feeling all the world like an explorer discovering a new land. It was a safe bet no one had been in this forest since Leslie's death, so I was surprised to find there was path worn on the ground. Curiosity urged me to follow it, so I did, marvelling in the way it snaked around the trees and through what seemed to be dead ends.

Suddenly, Tristan and I burst out into a clearing. It would have been nothing more than a circle of green grass, covered in leaves and surrounded by trees had it not been for the hut.

Perhaps hut was a bad word to use, but no other word seemed to fit. There, in the centre of the clearing stood a small building that could have past for a cubby house. However, there was no colourful paint or carefully positioned wooden door. It was as old as the bridge and I doubted whether it had been made by adults. More likely children. Or a child.

I shivered, but once more, the forest calmed me. I had no real intention of going into the strange construction, so it was Tristan's go to be brave.

"Let's go have a look inside."

"Why?"

"Well, we won't know what's in there 'til we see."

"Curiosity killed the cat," I reminded him.

"Do I look like a cat to you?"

I couldn't help but laugh and obligingly followed him over to the child-made hut. There was no door, just a large piece of timber that didn't entirely cover the entrance it was placed across. As soon as I stepped inside, I gasped. I had expected the hut to be rundown and devoid of any furniture or items. My prediction turned out to be quite wrong.

The ground was strewn with pieces of paper, some containing nothing but writing but most covered by of sketches and paintings. I could tell from a single glance that while they were not the work of an adult artist they were exceptional for a child, who I figured must have drawn them. Had it been Leslie? I shuddered at the thought. The fact that a dead girl's drawings would live on while she was already dead chilled me to the bone. In the corner there were some tins as well as cups. The walls were covered by many more drawings, tacked to the timber. Everything was old and faded but it was still truly remarkable that it was all there in one piece.

Tristan leaned over and picked up one of the pages. I almost cried out for him to stop, for something about the peacefulness of the place told me it was a sin to disturb it in any way, but I was in no mood for another fight.

He read off the paper aloud: "Dear Janice – it's crossed out..."

I wondered over to one of the walls and examined a picture. It was map with exceptional detail. It was titled 'Terabithia'.

"Hey Tristan, any place around here called Terabithia?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"One you should answer."

"Of course there's no place called Terabithia, for God's sake!"

I smiled. "Just wondering."

"The hit was on the map and was labelled as 'Castle Stronghold.' A nearby section of forest was called 'Grove of the Pines.' It made absolutely no sense to me at all, yet something was stirring in the back of my mind. I checked the signature scrawled at the bottom of the map, half-hoping, half-dreading to see Leslie Burke's name there. I got quite a shock when instead it read, in a cramped, scrawling script 'Jesse Aarons.'

I turned to face Tristan, who had been inspecting a picture on the opposite wall. He turned just as I did and at the same time we both said, "Who's Jesse Aarons?"

There was a brief moment of complete silence before we both burst out laughing. The absurdity of the situation was just too great. Still wheezing, Tristan strolled over to me to take a look at the map.

"It's a map," he said, stating the obvious.

"Genius, Sherlock," I drawled.

He punched me in the shoulder, but only playfully. I stepped carefully over to the other side, minding the tins and paper on the floor to see the other drawing by the mysterious Jesse Aarons. It was a painting of two children, standing in the forest. They were both smiling. It took me only a moment to realise that the golden objects on their heads were crowns. The pictures were labelled in a neater, more cursive writing. 'King Jesse' and 'Queen Leslie' and the same large title as before: 'Terabithia.'

My mind went into over gear as I pieced the evidence together. The map, the drawings, the two different styles of handwriting, even the "castle stronghold" - it all made perfect sense now. My eyes filled with tears and Tristan noticed the abrupt change in my expression.

"What?"

"Leslie did come here. But she didn't come alone. She had a friend, a best friend."

"You mean to say - ?"

I nodded. "Jesse Aarons."

Tristan whistled a low sad note that pierced the quiet air. "There is no story of a Jesse Aarons dying."

"He must have lived on."

"But then –" comprehension flooded Tristan's face. "Oh geez, that's rough. No, that's horrible. Poor kid. To have your best friend die when you're so young... I wonder how he coped?"

"I don't know," I said softly. I couldn't even begin to imagine.

"So, _Sherlock, _how do you explain the map and the crowns?"

"Easy, I'll bet any money it was a game they played. Think about it, two bored kids decide to start their own kingdom. They call it Terabithia and declare themselves King and Queen."

Tristan looked doubtful.

"Why so sceptical?"

"No one has that much of an imagination, surely."

"Why not?"

"Well, OK, maybe back then. Thirty odd years ago. But definitely not now."

I closed my eyes momentarily and pictured all the games I'd played when I was younger. Heck, I had never watched a straight hour of TV all the way up until I was nine. "You'd be surprised."

"Oh come on," said Tristan, and he changed his voice so that it was dream-like and quite frankly bizarre. "Don't tell me you believe in magic and all that. Go around dressed as a fairy in your spare time."  
"Of course not, but – oh come on!" I ran out of the hut and in the direction I had already memorised on the map. Tristan followed me again, but I could sense his confusion. I dove back into the thicket but all too soon, the forest gave way to another clearing. A grove, to be precise, surrounded by pines. There was hardly any sun shining through the trees as the foliage was far too dense. The ground was swathed with golden needles.

"This place is definitely haunted."

"Yes – but not in a bad way," I replied. "Now can you feel the magic?"

"I guess," Tristan admitted grudgingly.

I decided to have one final play at him. I adopted his mythical voice. "Can you hear the trees Tristan? They're talking to you. Do you know what they're saying?"

Tristan looked at me as if I'd gone crazy. "I haven't got a clue."

"They're saying fate has made you the new King of Terabithia."

Tristan snorted. "Terabithia doesn't exist."

Suddenly, the wind blew wildly through the trees for a few short moments, even upending some of the pine needles. I smothered a grin. The timing was almost too good to be true.

"Use your imagination," I said.

"I'll be King when you become Queen of a haunted place."

"Fine," I said. We managed to hold off laughing until we exited the pine grove. Once sunlight reached our skin, we both collapsed into laughter.

And form that moment on, Tristan and I were friends.

_**Yes, it's been a while, sorry. So much stuff gets in the way! To all my awesome readers, you rock and if I could take to you the Eiffel Tower, I would (the view's pretty awesome). I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review and tell me what you think will happen – I love predictions. I'll tell you more background info on Tristan next time, I swear, as well as introducing you the modern Janice Avery. Stay tuned!**_


	6. Facing a Bully

_**After much deliberation I decided to make this chapter from Tristan's point of view. I've been meaning to give you background info on him for quite some time. Yes, he is a lot like Jesse, just as Alex is like Leslie.**_

As per normal, my sleep was woken by the sound of Dad going off to work. He had been saying for years that he would fix the engine on our old truck and he was yet to stay true to his promise. So hat meant every morning I was woken at 6am by the roar of a truck engine that had definitely seen better days. I moaned and pulled my pillow over my ear. What I would give for one morning, just one, where the sun actually rose before I did. Mum would also be up now, cranky at her lack of sleep. She would brush her hair back, splash some water on her face and –

"TRIS–TAN!"

And call me to do my horde of morning chores. I buried my face further into my pillow, hoping for one more moment of peace before – Mum called, no screeched my name again. So much for peace and tranquillity. I rolled out of bed and got changed, vowing to one day become a President or King or someone who wouldn't have to listen to anybody.

_Of course, according to Alex, I am a King_, I remembered. King of Terabithia. I snorted. Even in my head the name sounded stupid. What good was being King of a haunted forest that was deserted? What was I supposed to do, reign supreme over the trees? I didn't have the heart to tell Alex I wasn't one for playing make believe. Any chance I'd had at an imagination had long since been ruined by endless chores and other mind-numbing work.

Sometimes, it really stank being the only boy in the family. Chelsea was away at college, studying like the good girl she'd always been. It meant she was hardly ever home, which was a bonus, but the downside was that Mum and Dad constantly reminded me of how perfect she was. Then there was Lillian, who was fifteen and a pain. She burned more money on credit and internet usage then Dad could make in a day. My teacher's never believed me when I told them I couldn't type my assignment because Lillian was always on the computer. We only had one computer and it was a dinosaur in its own right. Nothing or family ever got was new. That left Ella-Beth, my younger sister. She was ten and still in full swing of the Barbie stage. I played house of tea parties with her an average of twice a day and she never seemed to tire of it. I didn't mind Beth; she was a good sport and thought I was the best older brother in the world. Well, most of the time.

I had arrived in our kitchen, which smelt like beans. It had smelt this way as long as I could remember. Chelsea had once told me that it had been that way even before we'd moved into the house. I was used to it by now, but I noticed how people turned their noses up when they visited our family. In fact, people turned their noses up at our family, full stop. Another thing I was used to.

"Morning Mum," I said and she flashed me a rare smile. I took that as an invitation to sit down and had some breakfast, but no sooner had I place my backside on the chair, she was at me like a vulture to its prey.

"What are you doing? You know every morning you water the garden, feed the animals and move the front chairs back out into the yard while I take care of your sisters. Get moving."

_While I take care of your sisters, _I thought with venom. Lillian and Ella-Beth didn't need to be taken care of; they were both old enough to look out for themselves. Why couldn't Lillian feed the animals or water the garden? It would make my mornings far easier.

As I went about my chores I thought about Alex. She was my friend now and yet I realised I knew nothing about her. She had a slight English accent and she didn't seem to spend that much time on how she looked. She was fairly adventurous and had a large imagination. Was she rich? Probably. After feeding our two cats and dog, Sadie, I turned to the paddock. Overcome by a spur of the moment urge I ran at it, planning to jump clean over it just as I had seen Alex do. I baulked just as I got within two metres of it. It really was harder than it looked.

After a hasty breakfast I ran for the bus. Alex and I didn't sit next to each other because we both new annoying, persistent rumours would start.

Our grade didn't know what to make of Alex. Throughout her first week it became pretty clear that she was rich and quite intelligent. She was also a tomboy, which gave the popular girls all the ammunition they needed.

Lark Creek Junior High had all the high school clichés required. There were the jocks and the geeks and of course, the band of identically dressed girls who made it their mission to make everyone else's life hell. They were lead by a rather tall, slightly overweight girl called Tanya Harvey. In elementary school, Tanya had reigned as supreme bully. She stole homework of others, tortured younger kids and demanded their money. Moving to Junior High had only made her – if it was humanely possible – more spiteful.

On Wednesday, when our teacher left the classroom for ten minutes to help with an issue, she started on Alex.

"Hey new girl. It's called make-up. You should try it."

Without looking up from her work, Alex calmly replied, "Why?"

"'Cause you definitely need it."

"But an overkill of make-up would make me look desperate and possibly pathetic," Alex said. She turned around and looked Tanya up and down, her eyes lingering on the bully's over-painted face. "No thank you."

Silence reigned throughout the class. Everyone was watching, waiting. I could have hit myself. Why hadn't I warned Alex about Tanya?

Tanya decided to say nothing as the teacher returned, but I could tell this was only the start of what could possibly be a long, hard war. Alex seemed to take it all in her stride. I tried to warn her about Tanya later that very day but she laughed it off.

"A bully is only a bully when everyone remains frightened of them."

We talked sometimes at lunch and chatted after school before going our separate ways. Alex was full of stories and I enjoyed hearing every one of them. We also passed notes in class to ease our boredom. It was Friday before she mentioned Terabithia again and by that time I'd almost forgotten about our adventure on Monday afternoon. She subtly passed me a note in the last period of the day.

It read: 'Wanna go to Terabithia?'

I wrote 'what?' but then crossed it out as I remembered the forest beyond the creek. 'Sure. Why, though?'

After reading my note Alex grinned and scribbled a quick reply.

'Because a King must visit his own country.'

'Oh please,' I wrote. 'You're not still thinking along those lines, are you?'

'Why not?'

'Fine, we'll go. But no more King stuff.'

'Whatever. I still want to be Queen.' She drew a putting face at the bottom of the note. It took all my effort not to laugh out loud.

Terabithia. _Terabithia. _It was such a strange name but even I had to admit it had a cool ring to it. And what was the harm after all in being King of something if no-one else had to know. I scribbled one last note before the bell went, choosing to play along with her far-fetched but enjoyable game of make believe. Even though we were both thirteen. Even though I didn't believe imagination was still that same thing today. What was the harm in having some fun?

'Our Kingdom awaits.'

_**Note – I write Mum not Mom. **_

_**Hope you enjoyed. Again, thanks to DeathGirl666 and my newest fan of this story, Chelsea! (You get to be a character). You both rock. Trips to the Caribbean for all!**_

_**I'll try to update again soon but I'm writing a Narnia story now too – it's called The Beginning of the Winter, check it out and tell me what you think. Keep reading and don't forget to review – they help me so much and more character's names are on offer!**_


	7. To Lemonade

_**And now we're back to Alex...**_

Within a week I had discovered my mission. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had been going on in Tristan's life. From the way he avoided people at school, I realised he'd never had a true friend. He was busy a lot of the time, so I came to understand his family put him through a lot of chores. And finally, from his awkwardness at playing make-believe I started to wonder what his childhood had really been like and if he'd even had one at all.

In the end, it was my mission to make Terabithia a place for him to escape to. A place where he could be whoever he wanted to be and do whatever he wanted to do. A sanctuary of sorts. We started visiting it every afternoon. First, we cleaned the Castle Stronghold. We kept all the pictures and stories, but added ones of our own to the mix. The old tins were thrown away and I contributed new ones filled with dry fruit and biscuits. Tristan asked me what on Earth we would need that for, so I told him in my most queenly voice, "In case we are under attack and must retreat to the stronghold, where we are held prisoner for many a month."

Tristan snorted, but he played along none the less. I knew that whatever he said out loud, he secretly liked being King of the forest beyond the creek.

I decided a small amount of redecorating was in order. I strung a sheet across the entrance to the stronghold and set about planting a garden around it. One afternoon I brought my digital camera and took photos of me and Tristan. The next day I printed them out and hung them by the picture of Leslie and Jess. Tristan came up with the idea of drawing our own version of the map. This took almost two weeks to complete as we explored every inch of our kingdom to make sure we got the detail right. The Grove of Pines was directly behind the stronghold and to the left there was a small brook with its own miniature bubbling waterfall.

Mum (who I had again begun to call Carly) was not in the least bit fretted by the way I spent all my time outside, but she was extremely curious. Tristan and I had decided long ago not to tell anyone about Terabithia, so sometimes it was quite difficult to answer her questions.

"What can two kids do every afternoon?"

"Explore," I answered truthfully.

"_Every _afternoon?"

"Yes, Carly," I answered patiently.

One weekend, Carly forced me to invite Tristan over for dinner. It was every sort of awkward as I had only just begun to grasp at the bare bones of Tristan's family's financial situation. Carly and I made sure he felt right at home but I could tell he was eyeing our huge stereo system and the many paintings that adorned our walls. Once or twice while eating dinner, Carly and I would forget and discuss something political or musical and Tristan's awkwardness would reach breaking point. We hastily changed the subject.

After dinner, I sat with Tristan in the living room. Even he could appreciate the way in which the sun hit the golden walls, lighting everything up. Maybe it gave him courage, because his next question hit me completely left of centre.

"How rich are you?"

"Pardon," I choked through my lemonade.

"How rich are you? What does your Mum do?"

I put my glass down. As abrupt as the questions were, it seemed only fair to answer them.

"My father was in the army. He was a high-ranking general and was forever improving his position. It meant we moved around England a lot but the houses we lived in – well, they were more like mansions. In her own right, Carly –"

"Carly?"

"My Mum."

"Why do you call her that?"

"Habit, I guess. Anyway, she was a big time magazine editor and was also paid lots of money to write articles for other papers and magazines. However, she knew that a family was important and did most of her work at home so that she could raise me properly. My father made no such change in his work ethic. In fact, there came a time when he had saved up almost a year's leave and in any sense he even could have retired, but he just kept taking on more and more work. Carly would often fight with him about this and the fact we was never around didn't help. By the time I was ten they had broken up."

I took a breath and let the memory wash over me. It didn't make me sad as such; it just made me wonder what things would be like if everything had turned out differently. I would still be in England with an un-broken family for one. But then I would have never met Tristan and had a chance to be a true Queen.

Tristan was waiting patiently for me to continue. I gave him a reassuring smile, allowed myself a few more seconds of contemplation and then continued with my story.

"Mum gained full custody and for the first time in my life, I stayed in one house for almost three years. Her magazine reached strength after strength and coupled with the share in my father's fortune she had won, we were well off."

"You were rich."

I shrugged and screwed up my nose. I didn't like that word. "Then, about – what would it be now? Two months ago, Carly decided it was time for a complete change of scenery. She took leave in case she wants to return and we moved to America to 'reassess our value structure'."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"Well, my family is certainly nothing like yours. Then again, Dad's never home, he drives to Washington everyday to work. Mum is always grumpy. My three sisters –"

"Three sisters? I've only ever seen Ella-Beth."

"Oh right. Well, Ella-Beth is OK, but the other two annoy me. Lillian is in high school and she spends most of her time on the internet or on the phone. That's why you never see her. And Chelsea is at college in Washington. She was alright but she's up herself, she thinks she knows everything. It was kinda annoying."

"Oh," I said. I really had no idea what else to say. "Being the only boy must be good sometimes though?"

"Yeah," said Tristan slowly, then he changed his mind. "No, it's not. I have to do all the chores and take care of myself and play with Ella-Beth. And whenever we get something new it's always for Lillian or Chelsea and there's never enough money and –"

Tristan stopped mid-sentence and looked exceptionally embarrassed.

"It's OK," I reminded him, "I'm not going to say anything to anyone."

"I just wish I had a bit more power sometimes, I guess."

"Oh but you do," I said and lowered my voice to a whisper. "You're a King, remember?"

And for the first time, Tristan didn't laugh or make comment. He actually looked generally happy with the idea. "Yeah...King."

We sat in silence for a while before he spoke up again.

"Hey Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks – for everything. For listening and being my friend and –" here he too consciously lowered his voice – "helping me discover Terabithia."

"You welcome, my King," is said, raising my lemonade glass in a mock toast. Tristan raised his and we clinked them together.

"And to you, my Queen."

"And to Terabithia."

"To many more adventures."

"To the stronghold."

"To lemonade."

"To friendship," I added, trying not to sound too corny.

"To friendship," agreed Tristan.

"Kids! Time for dessert!"

We laughed all the way back to the dining room.

_**Review, review, review...I'm writing two stories and plan to update the one that is reviewed more.**_

_**So please, review, review...**_


	8. Fencing

Tanya's revenge did not come until art class a week or so later. Let me tell you, though, it was one art class I never forgot. Nor, unfortunately, did my parents.

It was at the end of the class, when we were backing up. We had been painting landscapes. I'm a terrible drawer. That is, I sketch things, but I sketch my ideas for inventions and things to make. Give me some wire, a battery and a pair of pliers and I'm content for a good hour or so. Alex sat at the same table as me, along with a few other students. Before Alex I had never really had a true friend. I'd just drifted from group to group, never fitting in. At that stage, we were still keeping or friendship under wraps as neither of us were in the mood to fight off rumours and annoying comments for a fortnight.

Alex had finished her painting and got to her feet, her arms filled with small bottles of paint, ready to re-store them in the arts cupboard. She walked right past Tanya and it all happened so fast that even I couldn't shout out a warning. Tanya quickly stuck her foot out, tripping Alex over. My best friend's head missed the table by inches and I leapt to my feet. The paint bottles soared up into the air and fell down square on Alex. Paint drenched her and her once white shirt quickly became multi-coloured.

"Watch where you're going next time," said Tanya.

The room was silent, waiting for Alex's reaction. I wondered if she'd just walk away from it all, leaving Tanya to stew. Impossible. No one could simply walk away with dignity for that.

Alex got to her feet. "You owe me an apology."

"Pardon?" Tanya drawled.

"Apologise." Alex's voice now had a steely edge.

"Keep dreaming, new girl. Besides, you look way better now. Except for your face, of course."

Heat built up inside me. Why was I just standing here, letting this happen? Alex was my friend, my only friend, my best friend. And I was....a coward.

"You're right, it does look good on me," said Alex brightly.

This was not the revenge I'd been expecting.

"But you know who it would look even better on? You." And with that, Alex leaned forward and enveloped Tanya in a tight hug, covering her with paint. Tanya screamed and Alex quickly let go. Of course, once more, the teacher was not here. Lark Creek Junior High teacher's had a habit of not being around when you needed them most. Alex stood there smiling for a moment than started picking up the bottles of paint. Once she had gathered them all, she continued her journey to the art cupboard as if nothing had happened.

Turning her back to Tanya, however, was not such a smart idea. The fuming bully picked up another paint bottled and turned on Alex. I could see she meant to throw it at my unsuspecting friend. Everything seemed to slow down. I leapt across the classroom in two large strides and wrenched the paint bottle out of Tanya's hand just in time. She turned on me snarling. Something inside me burst into flame. I couldn't see or hear anything that wasn't my own boiling anger. This bully had attacked Alex. _My friend. _And in that moment I wasn't a scared kid. I was a king.

I shoved Tanya hard in the shoulder.

And instantly regretted it. Not only did Tanya go reeling but at that exact moment, Mr Simons, the art teacher, re-entered the classroom.

I could dimly feel Alex grasp my arm. Everyone would know we were friends now but I didn't care. I could hear Mr Simmons shouting questions and Tanya whimpering. Then, amidst all the noise, I heard Valerie Jenkins speak up.

"It was him, sir! Tristan DeLazio hit Tanya here."

"I didn't hit her I shoved her," I tried to explain. Mr Simons ignored me.

"Unprovoked?"

"Yes sir."

"How did Alexandra get covered in paint?"

"An accident, sir. She tripped."

I opened my mouth to object but Mr Simons cut me off. "Not another word, DeLazio. Headmaster's office – now!"

And so that was how I ended up spending the rest of the day in Mr Clark, the headmaster's office, trying to set the story straight. Eventually, he believed me that Tanya had tripped Alex but in the end, there was no erasing what I'd done. I'd picked a fight with a girl. And even now, in the 21st century, that was Mr Clark's pet hate.

My Mum came to collect me and she was none too happy about it. She didn't give me a chance to explain, just told me to get out of her sight. I wanted to go to Terabithia, but I knew it wouldn't feel the same without Alex.

I sat on the fence of my paddock, waiting for the bus to come. As it pulled up both Ella-Beth and Alex jumped off. I gave Ella-Beth a high five as she ran past me to our house. She really was a good kid. Alex gave me a signal to wait and firstly went to her house, supposedly to put her school bag away and change. When she came out five minutes later, however, she was still covered with dry paint.

"Hey," I said, "aren't you going to change?"

"Nah. Tristan, I just...What you did – thanks."

"What I did was so stupid though."

"Not half. If Tanya doesn't have some kind of permanent bruising, I'll be thoroughly annoyed."

I laughed. "So, what do you want to do?"

Alex thought for a moment. "I really feel like doing something to take my mind off my anger, otherwise I just might explode. I feel like going horse-back riding."

I stared. "Serious?"

"Yeah. I know it's impossible, but that's what I feel like."

I laughed again.

"What?"

"Sorry, it just makes you sound every bit like a wealthy girl from some English private school. Horse-back riding. What's next? Tea and biscuits and embroidery?"

"Oh ha ha. Every King should know how to ride, have you never watched Lord of the Rings?"

"No, I haven't. What's it about?"

"Where do I begin? Look, I'll tell you the story one day, but first, have you got two long sticks lying around? Like the handles of brooms?"

"Uh, sure," I said and headed off towards our shed. I had no idea where she was going with this. After collecting two fairly beaten and worn broomstick handles we ran off to Terabithia, across the bridge and to the castle stronghold. Alex led me to a wide space just to the right of it. She held her stick in front of her like a sword.

"Let me prove I'm no tea and biscuits kind of girl," she said. "Ever fenced?"

"God, no," I replied.

"Honestly, are you a King or not. Have you ever read the Chronicles of Narnia?"

"No..." I said again, beginning to feel stupid.

"I'll lend them to you. All you need to know now is this: Terabithia is your kingdom –"

"Our kingdom."

"Yes, fine, our Kingdom. And therefore we must know how to protect it. Therefore you must know how to handle a sword. Therefore..." Alex trailed off and swung her sword around her in precise, menacing circles.

"Therefore...?" I prompted her.

"Therefore I will teach you to fence."

We started with the basics. First, she showed me how to move my feet. I learnt to never turn my back on an opponent and to continue circling, even when I was tired. We then moved on to sword movements: a simple attack followed by a block and a counter-attack.

"Thrust, parry, strike, good!" Alex called to me as we wove, dodged and attacked each other.

"You sound like you're from the three musketeers!"

"All for one!"

"And one for all!"

After almost an hour of sword play we were both ready to collapse, aching and sweating. However, there was one lesson Alex thought I had not yet learned.

"And now, to finish, we must fine tune your imagination." She swung to the left. "En garde!" And with that she began duelling an imaginary foe. It might have looked comical, but in truth it looked amazing.

"Your turn."

"What?"

"Sire, behind you stands the most foulest of beasts – destroyed it!" She ordered in her most queenly voice.

I paused. My imagination was simply not as good as hers. Alex saw my dilemma and came to my aid.

"Don't pretend. Don't think to yourself 'OK, I have to make-believe; I have to use my imagination'. Let it be real to you and real to your mind and it will be."

I nodded slowly and Alex added an afterthought. "And forgive me for sounding like a fortune cookie. Now kick some monster butt!"

I flung myself around and there it was: a small goblin, with fur like a wolf and claws longer than I thought would be possible. It was snarling at me, its lip curled back over its yellow teeth. In one hand it held a curved sword.

I wasn't afraid. There was no need.

This was my kingdom. And with that, I showed that goblin who was boss.


	9. Study Date

Tristan turned out to be a naturally talented fencer. He asked me where I learned and I said a friend had gotten me into it. He then said it still didn't prove I was the perfect English school girl, so I divulged him the cold, hard truth. Apart from reading and writing, I was a terrible student. All the private tutoring in the world could not have improved my marks in Maths, Science and goodness knows what else. This cheered him up slightly, I think. I'm pretty sure that up until then he had been thinking I knew everything under the sun.

What really made me happy, though, was that his imagination was improving beyond all recognition. Once, while we were bored in Terabithia, it was he who suggested we went giant hunting, an offer I gladly took up. It would be a long time before giants plagued our Kingdom again.

I never forgot the incident with Tanya, though, and it was I who decided we would have our revenge in some way or another.

Tristan wasn't as keen as I was to get even. I knew that being sent to the headmaster's office and in turn, sent home, was still freshly burned into his brain and was unlikely to fade anytime soon. This was one of the reasons I simply couldn't allow Tanya to go unpunished.

One afternoon, exactly a week after the incident had taken place we were sitting in the castle stronghold snacking on biscuits when an idea occurred to me.

"You know what Tanya's really scared of?"

"What?"

"Embarrassment."

"Hey! Yeah, you're right. But how's that going to help?"

"I think it's time we took a trip to the school library," I said and then quickly outlined my plan to Tristan, whose smile got bigger and bigger with my every word.

We went to school early the next morning and paid the school library a visit. At first I had been surprised Lark Creek Junior High even had a library and in a sense it didn't. Well not what I would generally call a library. However a small classroom with a few shelves of books apparently got given the title.

There was no-one attending the desk so we slipped in unnoticed and got to work. Several minutes later we had gathered four of the best titles the library had to offer – _Great Creatures of the Sea, Conversational Portuguese, A Beginner's Guide to Ballet _and, of course, _The Big Book of Fairytales._

We weren't stealing the books, we were borrowing them. However, we knew that seeing as there were so little books in the first place; the teachers would be up in arms searching for them. Which was exactly the point. Tristan and I rushed to our main classroom and hid all four books in Tanya's desk. We were just out into the corridor when our English teacher turned the corner. Before she could see us we ducked into the nearby computer room (consisting of a grand total of five computers). Tristan hastily botted one into life and we sat next to it, staring intently at screen, just in case we were discovered. It was a good thing we did, because moments later the door to the computer room opened and there was Mrs Donald, our English teacher.

"Tristan, Alex. It's a bit early isn't it?"

"Just trying to fit in some extra study," I said with a large fake grin.

"Tristan?"

"Oh, yeah. You can never know enough stuff."

OK, so we were both pathetic actors. But in our defence, we were under a lot of pressure.

"Well, that's fine then. I'll just leave you two to your study date."

Study date. _Study date? _

"No, Miss, we're not – you see..."

It was too late. Mrs Donald had already left, proudly wearing a smile as big as mine had been. Tristan and I hastily got up from the computer, shut it down and raced out into the schoolyard.

After Tristan had shoved Tanya the truth had come out about our friendship. We bravely faced all the sniggers and taunts, but even now I still wasn't used to everyone calling Tristan my _boy_friend, but we laughed together at the absurdity of it in Terabithia.

Terabithia really had become our sanctuary. As Tristan so wisely put it one afternoon, it was a place where we could just be ourselves and it was somewhere like people like Tanya couldn't reach us. Where we truly were King and Queen.

Revenge came sooner than I had expected. We had barely reached second period Maths when the door burst open and in marched the headmaster, Mr Clark and the office lady who doubled as the library teacher.

"Children," she called, "we apologise for the interruption but a very serious matter has unfolded. A small number of books have been stolen from the library. Now, I realise this could be an innocent offence as several of you do not know how to properly use the library system in the first place..."

Several of my more intelligent classmates giggled.

"So if it is anyone in here, kindly own up and I will aid you in correctly lending the books out."

Of course, no one moved. But I could tell from the office lady's face that she wasn't simply going to let it and there.

"Fine. Students, please open your desks to prove you innocence."

I dared not look at Tristan and had to suppress a grin as I opened my deck to prove I was clear of all charges. I was silently waiting for the exclamation of surprise I knew was coming.

"What the...?"

"Miss Harvey?" said Mr Clark, walking over to Tanya and her open desk. "Miss Harvey, you – oh. I see. Well now, do you mind if I take a look at this?"

And with that the Headmaster reached in to the dumfounded bully's desk and pulled out for books, reading out the titles as he went. Tanya's face got redder and redder with every word.

"_Great Creatures of the Sea_. A truly fascinating topic, if I do say so myself. Are you interested in becoming a marine biologist, Miss Harvey?

"Conversational Portuguese. An interesting choice. But you know, Miss Harvey, one must master their native language before attempting to learn a second.

"_A Beginner's Guide to Ballet. _A beautiful form of dance if I do say so myself. Good luck with that endeavour. And finally, ah, _The Big Book of Fairytales."_

By this time, most of the class were in hysterics. The look of Tanya's face alone was enough to set anyone off.

"Well Tanya," continued Mr Clark, "why don't you go with Miss Farrow now and she'll show you how to properly borrow these books."

"Sir, this is crap! I did not –"

"Tanya!" Mr Clark's voice had darkened considerably. Tanya meekly got to her feet and followed the headmaster and Miss Farrow out of the classroom, our laughter echoing around her.

That afternoon in Terabithia we reviewed our success.

"I kind of felt sorry for her in the end," mused Tristan.

"You what?"

"Well, just the look on her face, she looked so embarrassed."

"Which would be the point."

"I guess so, but still."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't tell me you're developing a crush on Tanya, of all people," I teased.

"Hell no!"

"Just checking. Now, let us go thank the Spirits of the Pine Grove for our success today and then we can cease talking about Tanya Harvey entirely."

We walked to the Grove of Pines, instantly going completely silent as we entered that sacred place. As usual it was quite dark and only a small amount of breeze was managing to thread its way through the thickly clustered trees.

"O Spirits of the Grove," I began and then nudged Tristan.

"Ah, yes. Grove Spirits. We thank you from the, uh, bottom of our hearts for our victory today."

"May the villain we conquered never oppose us again."

"Amen to that."

We were about to solemnly leave the grove when something to the right of me caught my eye. I was amazed I had never noticed it before, but I guessed unless you were actually looking for it, you wouldn't look in that particular direction.

It was a small memorial someone had created, half hidden behind a tree and sprinkled with golden needles. I stepped slowly over to it.

"What are you – oh."

Standing tall against the tree was a small white cross. Attached to the middle was a photograph. My first ever look at who Leslie Burke had really been. She had had the same hair style as me, blonde to my black. Her eyes sparkled even in the picture and it looked as though she was midway through a laugh. I liked her on the spot.

On the cross there was no 'RIP' or 'beloved daughter'. There was simply a small, roughly cut hand engraving that read 'Leslie, Queen of Terabithia.' To the base there was tied several wilted flowers and amongst them, a small paintbrush.

"I can't believe it hasn't deteriorated."

"The trees protect it from the sun and rain and wind," I said. "I think it's beautiful. Jesse Aarons truly was a wonderful friend."

I hadn't doubted for a moment who had made it.

From that day onward, once a week I would bring fresh flowers down to the memorial. Tristan and I wrote a card to the dead girl and her friend as if they were with us. We told them about discovering Terabithia and the magic it had sparked in our lives. We told them we were proud to keep the legacy of the Kingdom they had found going. We thanked them for having the imagination to find the Kingdom in the first place.

We placed the letter near the memorial. And through wind and rain and the harshest of sunlight, it still sits there as our gift to them.

_**Schoolwork hounds us all. So chapters may be slower coming. I hope you continue to enjoy. Review, review, review. The more readers I know are hooked on this story, the faster I will write!**_


	10. Christmas

_**Quick note: Yes, my story is following a similar story-line to that of the book. I have done that for comparison and to keep fans of Leslie and Jess happy. There are differences of course – Alex has a TV, no Miss Edmunds, no Joyce Ann ... and as for the ending of my story....you'll see.**_

_**Enjoy.**_

Christmas was fast approaching and there was the usual uproar in the DeLazio household. Lillian insisted that each of her best friends was given a gift, as well as her boyfriend of only one week. Mum had a long argument with her over that. There was hardly enough money for each of us to get a decent present, let alone to spend money on some people Mum had never even seen before in her life.

Ella-Beth so desperately wanted a doll, and this time she wasn't going to be pleased with a hand-me-down. I had noticed, with a strong sense of guilt, actually, that she had been rather withdrawn of late and I wandered if it was because I was spending all my time with Alex. I had already scraped together enough money to help buy her that doll, so hopefully my guilt would be abated somewhat.

I myself didn't want anything. I had learnt quickly as a child that desperately holding out for a certain gift usually led to disappointment. Dad had once bought me a ball and glove, but owing to him never being home I had never really blossomed as a sporty person.

It was a breakfast, a week before Christmas that I realise who I had completely forgotten. Lillian was whining again.

"Please, Mum, just a shirt? Kevin means so much to me."

"He means so much to you this week, but what about in two weeks when you move on? What then?"

"Mum, Kevin and I –"

"No, Lillian."

"But –"

"I said no, Lillian."

Lillian pouted. She was used to getting her way. She decided, of course to take her annoyance out on me. "What about you, Tristan? What you going to get your _girl _friend."

"She's not my girl friend," I said for the millionth time, but something was stirring in the back of my brain. What was I going to get Alex?

"She's going to be extremely disappointed if you don't get her anything," Lillian drawled, smiling through her glossy lips.

"Shut up!" I yelled and ran out of the kitchen. Mum called after me, but if I had been expecting words of comfort or sympathy, I was sadly mistaken.

"Don't forget to do your chores!"

I was such an idiot! How could I have forgotten about Alex? She was my best friend, my first and only. And here I was, a week before her first Christmas in Lark Creek with nothing for her. She'd understand, of course, but it wouldn't be the same.

But what could I possibly give her that was good enough? She was rich, she had everything she needed and wanted.

I was near the shed down and I lashed out at it, kicking the corrugated iron wall. The whole shed shook with force and my toes instantly screamed out with the pain but I ignored them. I entered the shed, my second sanctuary after Terabithia.

No-one ever came into the shed, not even Dad. He had given up attempting to start a farm and now he drove to work every morning. The shed became my place where I could be alone. It was also the place where I had discovered my passion for inventing and making weird and wonderful things. The force of the kick had caused the door on a small cupboard to open. I went to close it but then something caught my eye. In a draw there was a box of small metal flowers. How bizarre. Obviously they had been used some time ago for a school play or project in the hopes of making it look fancier than it actually was. I took the box out and examined the flowers more closely. They were bent and some where rusty from water in the air, but I reckoned they could be salvaged. Suddenly, an idea hit me like a bolt of lightning. I dug through the cupboard again and after a long search, extracted a half-empty bottle of gold paint. This I remember had been used at Ella-Beth's birthday one year. The paint was quite runny but I knew I could find a way to thicken in. I lay the box of metal flowers and the golden paint next to some pieces of thick metal wire on my workbench. I knew that no matter what I did, with tools like these my creation would never be perfect. However, even I could tell that if I worked on it long enough, it would be just right.

I set to work then and there, planning to spend all my free time in the next week in the shed, building Alex's Christmas gift. Some of the work, including cleaning the metal flowers and beating them into shape was fairly mindless, so my brain wondered and pretty soon I found myself thinking again about the original King and Queen of Terabithia, Leslie Burke and Jesse Aarons. I knew that it was highly likely Jesse had lived in the very house I resided in now and I started to wonder. Had he been in this shed? Had he come here to make things? Had he done chores, or had siblings? I would never know but I still felt so close to this boy I had never met. Of course, I wondered if he was still alive. It was a possibility, but neither Alex nor I were sure exactly when Terabithia had been discovered, so he could just as easily died long ago.

But not as long ago as Leslie had.

I shook myself and continued to work on my project. I wanted this to be the best Christmas gift ever. If Alex loved it, it would make it my best Christmas ever, too.

Every day I went down to the shed. School was already out, so I had plenty of free time. I continued to go to Terabithia often so that Alex would not suspect I was up to something. We were renovating the castle stronghold again. Alex insisted I pin up some sketches of my designs on the wall. I told her they were nowhere near as good as Jesse's drawings but she said it didn't matter.

"It's your mark on Terabithia. You have to be proud of it."

She contributed her own poems and short stories to the library of papers at the back of the stronghold.

Five days before Christmas, Alex invited me to her house. As soon as I entered the golden lounge room I saw the reason why. In the corner was a giant Christmas tree, completely devoid of any decorations.

"Alex?" I called out.

She appeared in an instant with her Mum. Both of their arms were laden with boxes of decorations. Alex put down the boxes and started the stereo. Up-beat carols sounded throughout the house.

"Let's get to work!"

I had never had so much fun in my life. Alex and Carly cared little for matching colours or order. The more decorations the better, and pretty soon you could hardly see the branches of the tree.

"It is truly a masterpiece," said Carly, laughing. Alex agreed and gave me a hug. My cheeks burned, but I hugged her back. I wished I could be part of her family instead.

I woke up on Christmas morning and prepared myself for the rest of the day. Even though my eyes were still closed, Ella-Beth took my small movements as consciousness.

"Some on Tris, its Christmas!"

I rolled out of bed and pulled on some decent clothes. Ella-Beth was practically jumping off the walls when I entered the living room. Lillian was already there, still managing to pout on what was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. Chelsea, who had arrived last night, was reading a book, a useful tactic for ignoring Ella-Beth's constant questions about Santa, reindeers, holly and just about every holiday-inspired thing on the planet.

I had to admit, it truly was a great moment when she unwrapped her doll and her whole face lit up. I was glad I had spent most of my money on that.

I was equally as amazed to discover that Mum and Dad had bought me a watch. Of course, it wasn't a fancy large one made of gold or silver, but it was still impressive. I knew it would have cost a decent amount of money and I was speechless with gratitude. However, I did manage to garble a hasty thanks. It looked as though this really was going to be a good Christmas.

But, as per normal, it didn't last.

The clothes for Ella-Beth's doll didn't fit properly; Lillian was complaining that Chelsea had received some make-up. Chelsea argued she would have preferred the watch, which meant I was soon dragged into the argument. In the midst of the heated argument, Lillian barged past me and my watch went flying across the room. I winced when it hit the floor. I was relieved to find it was still working, but it now had a small dent on the back.

"Haven't you got chores to do, son?" Dad asked me loudly.

I headed outside, trying very hard not to cry. Alex was sitting on the paddock fence, waiting for me.

"Merry Christmas," she said. "Everything alright?"

I tried to smile. I was determined that this part of my day would go well. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just – just a moment, I gotta check something in the shed."

I race off to the shed and grabbed Alex's finished present. I hid it under my jumper and headed back out. I was surprised to see Alex was also holding a box, but I didn't ask her what it was. We ran all the way to Terabithia. The sun was well and truly up, but the fog had not yet disappeared. I had truly begun to marvel at the magic that surrounded me every day.

Alex was about to enter the castle stronghold, but I grabbed her arm. I knew her present would look better in the light.

"Merry Christmas," I said and revealed Alex's present. She gasped with delight.

Over the week I had managed to clean and fix the metal flowers. I had then bent the wire into a circle with two intertwining loops. After a long search I found Dad's old soldering equipment. At first it hadn't worked but I had persisted and little by little I had soldered the flowers onto the wire. Finally I had painted the whole thing gold, and despite the paints age, it still shone in the morning sunlight.

My gift to the Queen of Terabithia was, fittingly, a crown.

"Oh Tristan it's beautiful. You made it, didn't you?"

I nodded. I had never felt so proud before in my life.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what to say."

I looked upward and shouted to the sky, "Terabithia! I present to you your Queen!"

Alex and I laughed and I placed the crown on Alex's head. It really did look beautiful and not the slightest bit out of place.

"You'll have to make yourself one," she said.

I smiled. Maybe I would, but for now, this was enough.

Alex handed me the box she had been carrying. "Merry Christmas. It isn't anywhere near as good as a present as yours is, but I hope you like it."

In the book was a boxed set of books. 'The Chronicles of Narnia.' There were seven books in all. For the second time that morning, I was speechless. Seven books...it would have cost a fortune.

"They'll teach you how to be a real King," Alex teased.

"Oh, because I'm not one already?"

Alex giggled and fingered her crown. I smiled and began reading the blurbs of my books out loud.

It felt like Christmas again.

_**Yes, I know that's a line from the novel. I can't help myself. I hoped you enjoyed, this is my longest chapter yet, which means it takes longer to write, but hey.**_

_**Review, review, review please!**_


	11. Brandon and Bewilderment

_**This chapter is dedicated to Chelsea. From fear and turmoil, good things will come. **_

Carly was pleased with the way I was settling in. I told her in truth, I hadn't yet really settled in too Lark Creek at all, I had simply found one good friend. Carly shrugged and waved that off as an important detail. In my mind I knew I had settled into a different place entirely – my own kingdom, Terabithia.

After Christmas Tristan and I began exploring further and further into our kingdom. We never got lost, but we unfortunately never got too far either. The magic of Terabithia always seemed to pull us back to where we had started, the castle stronghold, in some unidentifiable loop. So we started taking pens, paper and an old compass I found with us every time we went, and bit by bit we made progress into the mysterious outer territories. We'd already engaged in several goblin and hag fights along the way. The outer territories were definitely in need of some protection from evil. Thanks to the Narnia books he was now reading, Tristan's imagination had all but trebled.

In school, a new boy appeared. I was annoyed to find he had absolutely no problem fitting in, but then I guess the manner of his dress sense should have alerted me to that. Every day he wore mainly black and his hair contained so much gel I swear he could have fixed a broken car. Girls were all over him in a second and guys were practically queuing up to be his friend. Despite all this, I was elected to 'take care' of him for a week and show him around. Apparently this was logical in the sense that we could feel out of place together.

It was a load of rubbish.

However, I did try.

"In there is the library, it's quite small."

The new boy, Brandon, snorted. I ignored him.

"And, ah, that's the art classroom and the science lab –"

"Listen, chick, thanks and all that but I can find my own way around."

My hands balled into fists. "Chick?"

"Oh, feisty. I like that is a girl." He placed a hand on my shoulder. I was so stunned by the cheek of this guy that I didn't shrug his hand off instantly. But by the time I did, it was too late. Tristan had walked around the corner.

"See you in class," said Brandon with a wink I knew he did all for effect. I just shook my head and turned around to face Tristan so we could have laugh and loudly abuse Brandon together. Tristan, however, had his fists clenched by his sides in much the same way I had.

"Tristan? You right. Did you just see Brandon, I mean, the way he winked..."

"Yes. I saw it," Tristan said shortly. "See you later." He marched off, leaving me completely confused.

Mrs Donald made me sit next to Brandon in English, much to my disgust. Half-way through the lesson he threw a note at me.

'Smile, chick. You're sitting next to me after all.'

I was so tempted at the moment to take some extremely drastic action, but instead I simply wrote a scribbled note and shoved it back to him.

'I'd rather take a holiday in hell.'

At first a dark shadow crossed Brandon's face, but it quickly cleared. He shrugged and gave me another roguish wink. Behind us there was a crash. I spun around. Tristan had dropped his pencil and ruler on the ground. I instantly got to my feet to help him. No-one cared that we were best friends anymore. However, before I could help him, Tristan hastily scooped up his possessions and sat down hurriedly on his seat, avoiding eye contact with me.

I was totally perplexed, but unfortunately I had to take my place. I'd ask him what was up that afternoon in Terabithia.

He didn't come to Terabithia.

As soon as we got off the bus he mumbled something in my direction and rushed off to his house. I assumed he had a chore to do and he would come in a short while. I set off to Terabithia without him, but as soon as I crossed the bridge, it didn't feel right. The magic was gone and without their King, the Terabithians had gone into hiding. I headed back home and greeted Carly. I dodged her questions about why I wasn't 'playing in the field' with Tristan and headed into my backyard, thoroughly bored.

As I was wondering around, searching for a way to entertain myself for the remainder of the afternoon, I spied some old timber in the far corner of the yard. It wasn't the timber that interested me but the thick long rope that bound the pieces together. And idea struck me like a bolt of lightning. So bored was I, I didn't even pause to contemplate the depth of my inspiration. Instead, I headed momentarily back inside to tell Carly I was going to play in the field after all. I then proceeded to untie the rope and take it with me.

I set off back to Terabithia, singing softly to myself as I went.

Once I reached the bridge, I bypassed it and headed back to where it had all begun – the broken rope. I gave the tree from which the rope hung an inquisitive glance before promptly climbing up. I reached the correct branch and carefully began edging my way out along it. I instantly knew it would be blasphemy to untie the original rope, so I tied my new rope beside it, using a loop knot so that there was no way it would untie. I climbed down the tree full of energy from my success. I stood on the bank and used a stick to fish for my new rope. Once it was in my hand I prepare myself to swing and it was then I stopped.

The creek had only a slight trickling of water running through it, but I felt as if the ghost of Leslie Burke herself was holding me back. For a moment I contemplated abandoning my adventure all together, but there was no real danger. I swung out and all my fears melted away. It was the most incredible feeling, especially when I tilted my head back and the sun warmed my face.

I spent the remainder of my afternoon swinging back and forth and come just before sunset; I had made up my mind. Tristan had not arrived, so I would go and get him.

As soon as I reached his house, I took a left and headed for his shed. Sure enough, there he was, working on one of his many projects.

"Tristan? Why are you down at T- in the forest?"

"I thought you would have wanted to go with Brandon instead," Tristan said harshly.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I saw him winking at you. I saw you pass notes."

My mind worked in over gear. "Oh. That was him being a cad. Tristan, I ha – I strongly dislike him. He's so up himself."

"Really?"

"Really. Is that why you were acting so odd today?"

"Yeah, I guess. I felt a bit – never mind."

"OK then," I said with a smile, deciding to leave things as they were. "Come with me, there's something I have to show you!"

I set off running. Upon reaching the new rope, Tristan skidded to a halt. "What have you done?"

He sounded so shocked. I laughed. "I put a new rope up. It's lots of fun." And with that I swung out on it.

"No, Alex!" Tristan cried, his voice echoing through the wood. I swung across and back and landed safely on the bank beside him.

"It's perfectly safe."

"Alex, please don't. It's too much like the story. Please don't."

"Well, alright, if you really don't like it. Do you want to have dinner at my place?"

Tristan nodded, his face still pale. As we walked back, I thought about the promise I made. I would never swing on the rope while Tristan was there again, as it obviously scared him a lot. But the freedom of swinging was simply to amazing to give up entirely. I would swing on it whenever he wasn't around. The rope was strong and probably fairly young.

I knew it would never break.

_**Yes, this chapter has taken a while and it's short. I've had so much stuff on though. Music exams mean you practically have no life. I'll have another chapter by next weekend.**_

_**Lots of people are reading, but not as many are reviewing. All it takes is one click of that button. Reviews are love...**_


	12. School Fight

_**Bit shorter than usual, but I had to end it with a cliff-hanger, sorry....**_

_Two weeks until Easter..._

Even Lillian sat up and took notice off me when I came home one day with a split lip, bruises of my arms and a decent amount of dried blood staining my upper lip.

"What happened to you?" she asked nonchalantly as I sank onto the couch.

"I got into a fight at school," I answered in the same tone. It was these words that caused Mum to turn around.

"Oh my God, Tristan!"

I sighed. So this was what it took to get my Mum to actually take some interest in me. I prepared for her to reprimand me and complain about having to go into school to sort things out. I fell headlong into a memory from six years ago.

_I walked through the front door standing tall. Even as a seven-year-old I was proud of the big bruise on my face, because it was a souvenir of the fight I had gotten into that day._

"_Tristan was fighting at school," Lillian said as soon as she walked into the house. For and nine-year-old that girl sure had a big mouth._

_Dad came around the corner, his forehead creased with what I had initially thought to be worry lines._

"_What happened to you, boy?" he asked._

"_I got into a fight Daddy, because a boy insulted our family."_

_I waited, expecting Dad to shake his head, but ruffle my hair and say something nice about how I had stood up for my family._

"_He lost the fight, though," Lillian chimed in._

"_Of course he did."_

_Something pierced my heart at that moment, invisible to the naked eye and the pain was beyond imagination. I had to blink to hold back the tears._

"_And now there'll be an enquiry. Ten to one I'll have to go see you headmistress and the God knows what will happen. I don't want to ever hear about you fighting again, Tristan. Do you understand?"_

_I thought of all the times in the future someone would insult me or my family. How could I possibly survive school if I didn't let the bullies know I wasn't going to just sit there and take it?_

"_But Dad –"_

"_NO BUTS! Do you understand me?"_

_The tears began flowing at that point. "Yes, Dad," I whispered._

_And for a long time, I stuck true to my promise. I became an easy target for bullies, as not once did I retaliate. I would simply stand there and take whatever they threw at me. What friends I had slowly abandoned me as they didn't wish to be drawn into my pain._

_I became a recluse, and probably would have remained one if a fiery girl hadn't come into my life and changed everything..._

"Are you alright? Does anything hurt? What happened, who did this?" Mum asked, generally concerned.

That was completely unexpected. At the same time, it sent a warm feeling running through me, like after you take a bite of your favourite chocolate. Maybe Alex wasn't the only thing that had changed in my life.

"I'm fine Mum, really. I got into a fight with this jerk called Brandon."

Mum was already running a small cloth under warm water. With a gentle touch she carefully cleaned the blood off my face.

"Why? It's not like you to pick fights."

_You've got that right, _I thought. I couldn't even believe I started it in the first place, after going so long without even lifting a finger. But as I thought back to my tussle today, I remembered that just before I had thrown the first punch, I had seen a distinct image in my mind of a snarling goblin.

"Well, he's been at school a few months now, but whenever he gets bored he has this habit of trying to flirt with Alex. Today he attempted to corner her, so I hit him."

"Oh, I get it," said Lillian from the computer. "He was trying to get with your girl so you got jealous. Good job, bro'."

"I did not get jealous! I was just worried for Alex's safety. She hates Brandon."

"Uh-huh."

"No, really. See, it's Tanya who likes Brandon, which is quite pathetic actually. But Brandon goes between flirting with her and ignoring her, something that is quite funny to watch. Even I'll admit that guy knows how to have a good time. But then when he's bored he turns to Alex, who detests him."

"Tristan DeLazio will you stay still while I try and clean you up!"

"Sorry Mum," I said meekly and sunk back into the couch. As soon as she was done I had to assure her I was fine before she let me out to play. She still looked extremely worried about me, which set another burst of warmth through me.

Alex was sitting outside on the paddock fence, waiting for me. She had a cut down the side of her face and a large bruise forming on her right shoulder. What I'd subtly forgotten to tell Mum was that Alex wasn't the kind of girl who sat back and let someone fight her battle for her. After I'd thrown the first punch and Brandon had retaliated, Alex had jumped into the middle of our scuffle to help me out. That was the reason Brandon had ended up looking a lot worse off than we had.

We'd all been hauled to the headmaster's office, but unlike Tanya, Brandon wasn't quick to throw the blame at us. He simply shrugged and looked as though he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

"Did your Mum – Carly – freak out?" I asked Alex by way of greeting.

"Course she did. I had to down play everything."

"Did you tell her that you'd just tripped over?" I asked with bemusement.

"No, I told her there was a fight. I just glossed over a couple of details...she calmed down eventually. What about your Mum?"

"She freaked, which was actually a nice surprise. I thought she'd be angry as hell with me."

By this time we had set off and were already halfway to Terabithia. I noticed Alex eyed her rope longingly, but I led her straight past it. I had a bad feeling about that rope. It was tempting a fate that was too terrible to even think of. Once we crossed the bridge we headed for the castle stronghold. Soon we were snacking on biscuits and telling stories of other bullies we'd encountered throughout our childhood.

Alex had seen her fair share of bullies, but unlike me she had always been surrounded by good friends who helped her ignore them. This hadn't prevented her from getting in the odd fight anyway.

"I was always the freak, after all."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, the small girl with the weird hair cut and strange imagination."

"No way! Your imagination isn't strange it's amazing."

"Oh – and what about my hair," Alex asked cheekily.

"Yeah, well, I'm afraid I can't say anything good about that," I teased.

It was then I heard the first small noise from outside.

I instantly held up my hand, causing Alex to fall silent. "Quiet, my Queen. I believe I may hear something."

Alex switched herself into Queen mode instantly, placing her crown on her head. Even now the crown still shone and I allowed myself a brief moment of pride. "Friend or foe, sire?"

"I am not yet sure." There was another noise, this time the unmistakeable sound of a crunch of leaves. An idea struck me

"Perhaps it is an animal – I mean, a friendly and loyal Terabithian, come to pay his respects to the King and Queen."

It seemed feasible enough.

"No..." said Alex as we both heard a third rustle. "This is a soldier of the Evil Lord, sent to scout out our magnificent castle so that a full scale attack can be launched."

"A full scale attack?"

"Oh yes. The Evil Lord knows we are all that stands between him and complete control of Terabithia."

She passed me my sword – a long branch, while grabbing her own weapon. "For Terabithia," she whispered.

"For Terabithia."

We charged out of the castle stronghold as the warrior King and Queen of our country, ready to fight for it to the last breath. I already had put my imagination in the right frame of mind and was all ready to fight a monstrous evil foe. So imagine my shock when our adversary yelled out in shock when we appeared and fell backwards into the undergrowth.

I dropped my sword with equal surprise. This was the very last thing I had been expecting.

"Brandon?"

_**Tune in next week for another episode of... just kidding. But keep reading and enjoying guys and most importantly – review.**_

_**Every reader and reviewer deserves to go visit all the theme parks on the Gold Coast (that's in Australia, guys).**_

_**Review, review....**_


	13. Unveiling the Stronghold

**Note: This story is set in 2009, of course. Bridge to Terabithia (I believe is set in 1976, one year after the Vietnam War).**

**Just for your information. :-)**

As I stared at Brandon, collapsed in a heap before me, several thoughts past through my head. Some of them were definitely left than pleasant, seeing as this was the same boy I had beaten up only today.

Mostly, though, I was shocked.

"What's with the sticks?"

Tristan and I instantly dropped our weapons and I quickly took off my crown and held it behind my back. There had been more than enough fighting today and it wasn't fair. For a moment there, I had been seriously considering introducing Brandon to my 'sword' but I thought better of it. That did not mean I was in the mood to be polite.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I snarled. My tone of voice was mainly caused by the dull throbbing pain my bruised cheek was still experiencing. Brandon was unabashed by my frankness, however, I was surprised to see that Tristan looked shocked. Had he been expecting that I would just invite Brandon into our castle and serve him high tea with the King and Queen?

Not bloody likely.

Granted, I took a deep breath to compose myself and it was lucky I did, for Brandon's response was just as eloquent as my own.

"What are you doing here?"

"I asked first." Childish, I know, but generally effective.

"I went for a walk because things at home – because I wanted to, OK? And I was going through this wood and I hear voices. I follow them and suddenly I'm in this clearing with this – what is that?" He pointed at our castle stronghold, which of course to an outsider would look like nothing more than an old cubby house or abandoned hut.

"Finish your story," I demanded and then added, "please."

"Well, I was going to investigate that hut thing but before I could you two burst out yelling and waving sticks like a pair of raving lunatics!"

I look to Tristan and smirk. "Do you think he's lying?"

Tristan contemplates. "We could hold trial."

I shake my head. "Nah, let's be generous. I say he's telling the truth, cleared of all charges."

I was half expecting Brandon would leap to his feet and start running as fast as he could away from us 'lunatics.' He did get to his feet, but it soon became pretty clear he wasn't going to leave any time soon.

_Dang, _I thought. Then a new brainwave struck me.

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"On a farm that way," replied Brandon, pointing this time into the wood. I did a quick mental check of the map we had drawn of Terabithia. He must live past the wood beyond the Grove of Pines. When Tristan and I had done our original exploring we had never ventured further than the Grove. It seemed to be a kind of unwritten rule. Had Brandon noticed Leslie's memorial?

"Where do you live?"

"We're neighbours," responded Tristan. "We live through that way." It was Brandon's turn to look in the direction Tristan was pointing, obviously drawing his own mental map.

An awkward silence followed. Appropriately, Brandon was the one to break it. "OK, this is weird. Why are we not yelling or insulting each other?"

"You tell me," I replied.

Brandon blinked. "Well, what's in that thing?"

And for the first time, I didn't feel like insulting him. He was only curious after all. "Wanna see?"

Tristan stirred beside me, but said nothing.

"Sure." Brandon held out his hand so that I could help him up. A sign of friendship. I was about to reach forward, but Tristan suddenly offered his own palm. I smiled, thinking Tristan was also offering a truce, but I quickly saw that both the boy's grips were far too tight.

We lead Brandon into our stronghold. I reflected that Brandon was the first person we had ever allowed in and he was perhaps only the fifth person ever to set foot in Terabithia's castle. I wasn't stupid. I knew exactly what the inside of our beloved castle would look like to an outsider: a child's cubby house gone horribly wrong. Despite the combined efforts of Tristan and me, the interior was still quite dirty. The walls were now covered with tacked up drawings, stories and now design sketches, courtesy of Tristan. There were sheets, pens and tins on the floor as well as two small stools. Only someone who knew the meaning for Terabithia would truly understand the meaning behind the chaos.

At the exact moment that we stepped across the threshold, the setting sun reached the perfect position in the sky that allowed golden light to come streaming through a small window. The interior of our castle lit up and I couldn't help but hold my crown up to the light, so that it glittered. Terabithia worked its magic yet again... and Brandon was not untouched.

"Wow," he said. "I didn't think it'd look like this." He turned around and saw the crown in my hand. "Care to explain?"

"Sure – but first, take a seat and tell us why you're wondering around in our wood?"

"_Your wood_? And why do you get to hear all the answers first?"

Tristan chimed in with an answer before I even had time to open my mouth. "We discovered this wood way before you, so therefore if we say it's ours, then it is. And in this wood, what Alex or I say goes."

"Who died and made you King?"

I gave small half smile. "There's a story behind that too. But you first."

Brandon was looking at the pair of us with wide eyes and I could tell he was thinking along the lines of 'raving lunatics' again.

"Fine," he said, "but this isn't exactly a fairytale. There's no such thing as happily ever after in real life."

I blinked. Clearly he had guessed more about what was going on then I had previously thought. Brandon began talking after sitting down on one of the stools and I began to discover there was a lot more to the bully then met the eye.

"I live with my Mum. We move around a lot. Mum and I generally get along but everywhere we go she finds a new boyfriend. I've hated every single one of her boyfriends. She always falls for the wrong type. Sometimes I feel as if I'm the parent and I have to take responsibility for her. I don't want to see her get hurt.

"I had a fight with one of her boyfriends once. His name was Mark and he made my Mum cry. He was over for dinner once and he was going off at her. So I punched him."

Brandon's voice cracked and tears starting coursing down his cheeks.

"He hit me back then stormed out. We moved away the very next day. She promised me she would be more careful. _She promised. _But now she's found a new guy. I just had huge argument with her and – and I needed some air."

Tristan and I were silent. This was a revelation. It explained so much. Why Brandon was so outwardly cold, why he didn't like mixing. It didn't explain why he was such a womaniser. Perhaps it was just a cover or an escape.

"What about your Dad?"

Brandon gave a hollow laugh. "He left my Mum when she was pregnant. I've never met him. The only thing I have to thank him for is my last name. My Mum's last name is Moore, which I think sounds like a field. Besides, when I was little, oter kids would pronounce it Mower. There was no way I was being Brandon _Mower. _So I asked what my Dad's last name was. That's why I'm Brandon Aarons."

I had heard Brandon's last name before, of course. On the roll, when teacher's addressed him. But at that exact moment when he said it, I happened to be looking at a drawing on the opposite wall. Of course, it could be purely coincidence, but something stirred within me. This was undoubtedly Terabithian magic. Terabithia had allowed Brandon to find us for a reason.

_Brandon Aarons._

And there, in the bottom corner of one of the many faded hand-drawn pictures...

_Jesse Aarons._

_**Yes, it's been a while. School finishes in two weeks and counting and then I have the entire summer hols to be writing. (It's summer here in Australia). So chapters will still be few and far between until then. Thanks to all my readers and subscribers and a big thank you to my newest fan mattc265.**_

_**And of course, to all reviewers. You make the world go round!**_


	14. The King's Legacy

_**From Tristan's point of view. (Just a reminder)**_

I was dumbfounded. I had never thought that behind his arrogant, evil exterior, Brandon would be such a responsible, caring person. It explained a lot, really. I also found it fascinating how he had decided to keep his father's last name.

Alex was staring off into the distance, something she did on numerous occasions. A cold chill swept across my chest. I hope she wasn't seeing Brandon in a completely new light, too. I had much preferred when she had gone around, cursing his name under her breath. Suppose that she now wanted to be friends? Suppose that she now wanted to be more than –

"What was your Dad's first name, Brandon?"

"I don't know. I've never asked and I doubt whether Mum would tell me."

"Oh. Are you a good artist?"

What the heck was Alex on about? She was confusing me more than ever. And worse – she was suddenly being so nice to Brandon. I didn't like it one bit. Why? Because he was the wrong guy for her, obviously.

"I'm an awesome artist, no comparison."

"And ever so humble," I said under my breath.

Alex held out a piece of paper and some pencils. "Will you show me?"

Brandon looked momentarily stunned, but then gave Alex a warm smile that made my insides burn. "Sure. Why not?"

He picked up the pencil and began swiftly sketching with a very calm, purposeful hand. Instantly two figures took shape on the paper and a background sprawled out around them. Suddenly Brandon stopped mid-sketch.

"What's the time?"

Alex never wore a watch so she shrugged her shoulders. I discreetly checked the watch that had been my Christmas present and was debating whether to tell Brandon at all, before I decided I didn't want to sink to his level.

"It's five o'clock."

"Jesus, really?" Brandon looked around him wildly and swore. I was unfazed by that but Alex flinched, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Brandon.

"Sorry, Alex, I just have t get back home." He leapt to his feet and started for the door.

"Wait. What about your drawing?"

Brandon flashed his trademark smile, ridden with pride and arrogance.

"Keep it. It looks like you need some real artwork to decorate this thing – I mean place."

With that he was gone, and not a moment too soon for my liking.

"Charming fellow," I said in my most kingly voice.

For once, Alex wasn't paying attention. She, too was on her feet, examining Brandon's drawing in the fast disappearing light. I got to my feet and went over to her.

"Alex? Why did you ask him to draw something."

She pointed numbly at one of the many pictures already tacked to the walls of our castle stronghold. I paused to look at it. It was one of the many drawings of the two original rulers of Terabithia. Surrounded by sketched trees stood Leslie and Jesse, crowns upon their heads and big smiles on their faces. Down in the bottom was the signature, _Jesse Aarons. _Within in my head, it was as though someone had flicked a switch and gears began turning rapidly. Hadn't I just heard that name? Wait, hadn't Brandon...

Alex held up Brandon's drawing next to Jesse's. Within a few minutes, Brandon had sketched out the same forest and two figures, except this time it was me and Alex, sticks in our hands and a crown upon Alex's head. And there, in the corner of the picture, Brandon had signed it, and it was just the answer my brain had been feverishly searching for.

_Brandon Aarons._

The sketching stroke was the same. And most astonishing of all, the cramped, scrawled hand-writing was almost identical. My mind couldn't even begin to comprehend the amazing discovery we had stumbled upon, so I said the easiest thing possible.

"I don't believe it. It's just coincidence."

Alex laughed. "Not a chance. You believe in the magic of Terabithia, don't you?"

I thought of how Terabithia had brought me and Alex together, how it had made me feel warm inside when me world had turned cold and how it was an escape from me from all hardship. "Yes, I do."

"Well this is Terabithian magic. It's more than fate, it's more than coincidence, it's magic. And it's bought Brandon too us."

I didn't like the way Alex had said that, with a twinkle in her eye. She had been snarling at Brandon not too long ago. For God's sake, she had tried to beat him up at school! And now she was acting like he was perfect. Like he was one of us.

"Grow up, Alex. Terabithian magic isn't real! It's just a stupid kid's game."

My words echoed around our castle stronghold. I regretted them the instance they left my mouth, but it was too late to take them back. I'd done the damage. Alex looked at me and her eyes filled with tears. Before I could apologise, she ran out the door.

God I was such an idiot! Why had I said something so stupid! I lashed out and kicked the wall. My foot burned with pain but I ignored it. What kind of King was I? King's were supposed to be understanding, wise and a voice of reason. And here I was, having just shattered Alex over nothing more than – nothing more than...

Jealousy.

There it was, I'd admitted it: I felt jealous. I didn't want to lose the only friend I had. Now as I reflected I realised there'd never really been any danger of that, until I'd gone and ruined everything with my big mouth!

I ran out of the stronghold, determined to make amends.

"Alex!" I called. "ALEX!"

I charged through the undergrowth, with no real sense of direction. After a few minutes of frantic searching, a thought struck me. I retraced my steps back to the clearing and then headed to the Grove of Pines. Sure enough, there was Alex, sitting in the middle of the grove, having cleaned away a pile of needles.

"Hey," I said softly. Alex didn't turn around. "Look, I'm so sorry about what I said. It was stupid and thoughtless and I didn't mean it. I was just sick of Brandon, but that's no excuse to snap out at you. You've been an amazing friend and you've opened my eyes to all this stuff I could never have experienced without you. I would do anything not to lose all of that. Will you please forgive me?"

Alex turned around. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were tear stained, which sent a sharp pain straight to my heart. However she was smiling.

"I forgive you."

I went and sat down beside her and subconsciously placed my hand on her shoulder.

"So, if Brandon is Jesse Aaron's son or something, that could change everything."

Alex looked at me. "How?"

"Well, then all that we told him was wrong. He's rightfully King of Terabithia isn't he?"

It was clear Alex hadn't contemplated from the way her expression changed to that of shock.

"I don't know if Terabithia works that way. I think you have to earn the title of King or Queen, not inherit it."

"Maybe. But still, Brandon may want his fair share if he finds out."

We both fell silent. It was going dark now, so we would have to leave soon. Terabithia was quite a haunting place by night. I wish Alex hadn't tied the rope up. Once, when we were headed back home quite late, I saw the rope swinging gently in a non-existent breeze. I knew that the spirit of Leslie lived on in Terabithia and though I had come to accept she was a kind spirit, I didn't want to offend her. Sometimes, I felt as though I could hear her voice in my ear.

'_You don't have to be scared. It's not haunted with evil things.'_

Perhaps I was imagining the whole thing.

"Alex, do you believe Leslie's spirit is still here?"

Alex closed her eyes. "Yes, I think I do."

I nodded.

"But you know what I want at this moment more than anything?"

I hadn't the faintest of ideas. "What?"

"I want to meet Jesse Aarons."

I moved uncomfortably. Somehow it would feel wrong to meet the old King, seeing we had taken over. Then again, it would be pretty amazing to meet one of the founders. "I guess so."

"Don't you think it would be awesome? All the things he could tell us..."

"It might also be painful for him. It would certainly bring back memories of Leslie. And don't you think it would also be like the Pensieves going back to Narnia in Prince Caspian after hundreds of years have passed. To find everything changed and different?"

"Yeah, but still. Imagine meeting the man behind the drawings. The inspiration behind Terabithia itself."

"You're right. So, the King and Queen of Terabithia are going t find Brandon's Dad – or whoever the old King is."

"Yes we are." Alex grabbed my hand and smiled, all traces of melancholy gone. "It's a quest."

_**I'm planning to have 20 chapters, so there's 5 more to go. Hopefully you can see the way the story is going, but I plan to bring in a couple of twists. Bridge to Terabithia isn't bridge to Terabithia without a good dose of tragedy.**_

_**Love you all, keep reading and of course reviewing!**_


	15. Easter Outing

_**Of course I love the character Jesse Aarons and I want to assure all my readers that he is still a good guy. All will be revealed.**_

Our quest certainly didn't start out that well.

Firstly, we had an increased amount of school work, as the teacher's had suddenly decided we needed to lift our game. I hardly understood half the things that were taught in Maths in the first place, now it was like my teacher was speaking another language. Fortunately, for the first time, Terabithia became the perfect study place, even with all the distractions. Tristan was far more into Science and Maths then I was and in turn, I helped him through English and History.

Carly had finally finished unpacking and decorating, so she decided it was high time we did some things together. I was all for this, but I did point out there was very little to do in Lark Creek. Unless you know about the secret kingdom hidden within it, but Tristan and I had both sworn to not share the secret of Terabithia with anyone. So instead, Carly and I went for many weekend day trips to Washington DC which was highly entertaining. Seeing as I was interested in History and Washington was full of it, I was literally in heaven every time we went.

As Easter approached, I noticed Tristan become increasingly moody and withdrawn, so of course I confronted him one day as we were hanging around in the castle stronghold.

"What is it this time? Family issues?"

Tristan nodded but said nothing.

"Well, come on, open up. I am your friend after all. What's been going on?"

Tristan turned away from me, but then spoke. "Well, you've been away a lot lately, so –"

I instantly jumped to my own defence. "Hey, I've been spending time with Carly."

"I know, I know. But that means I get to spend more time with my family and we aren't as picture perfect as you and Carly."

I shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

"We just can't get along! Lillian and Ella-Beth are always fighting. Mum seems to favour them over me. They can get away with murder and she just tells me to do my chores. I'm constantly being told I should be more like Chelsea and Dad – Dad's never around. And when he is he...he just doesn't care."

Tristan paused for a breath and finished with something that cut me right to my heart. "I would give anything for Dad to want to spend some time with me the way the Carly is spending time with you."

I was speechless. Slowly, crawled of to Tristan and put my arm around him. There were tear stains on his cheeks and by own eyes burned with forthcoming tears.

"Tristan, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. It's no-one's fault."

Tristan nodded. "I know."

"Would – would you like to come and do something with me and Carly this weekend?"

He smiled. "Thanks. But this weekend we're going to Church."

"I didn't know you went to Church."

"Well Dad isn't that enthusiastic," replied Tristan, "but Mum insists upon it. She's a true Catholic. We don't go all the time, just occasionally, for things like Christmas and Easter."

"So are you baptised then?"

"And confirmed."

"Awesome. What's your saint's name?"

"Justus."

"OK, that is just cool."

"Thanks."

There was a moments silence before a great idea struck me. "Hey Tristan? Can I come with you?"

"What?"

"To church."

Tristan burst out laughing, but when he turned around he saw that I was dead serious. "You won't like it. It's boring and all we do is sit, stand, kneel and sing."

"That's OK. I'm sure I'd survive."

"You really want to come?" Tristan asked incredulously.

"Yes. I think it would be fascinating."

Tristan snorted. "Well, fine. But even though this is the 21st Century, you still have to wear appropriate clothes and act proper."

"Oh and you think I can't?"

"I'm just saying..."

"I am the Queen of Terabithia, after all."

"For how much longer?" Tristan said softly.

"Hey, none of that. Remember what Aslan says. Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. So then, in our case..."

"Once a King or Queen of Terabithia, always a King or Queen of Terabithia."

I nodded. "Come on. Enough talking. Let's go discover the plans of the Evil Lord. Or scout the boundaries for new warriors for our army. Or hunt for giants."

"I agree," said Tristan with a grin, and we, the King and Queen set off in search of adventure.

The service was on Saturday, so that families could spend Easter Sunday together. Seeing it was only in the morning, Carly allowed me to go, but she was quite worried about another aspect.

"You're not going to suddenly convert on me, are you?"

"No, Carly. I'm just going to take a look. It's a life experience."

Carly had never been Christian, or indeed any type of religion. She often followed various rituals, such as meditating and used to read me the story of the birth of Jesus on Christmas so I wasn't missing out on the meaning behind the holiday. However, she defined herself as a humanist, which she told me is a person who lives morally for ethical reason and does not accept any view without evidence or scientific fact. I quite liked that idea. It was far more interesting and right than simply being an atheist – someone who didn't believe in anything.

On Saturday morning, I started my day with a huge search through my closet. Right in the back I found a white summer dress, which would have to do. I gave it a quick iron and borrowed a pair of sandals off Carly. I held the hair off my face with a few plain silver clips and made sure there was no dirt anywhere to be found on me. I even managed to put a small amount of lip gloss on my lips, though I loathed make-up on principal. This was a special occasion, after all.

I set off for Tristan's house and instantly all more worries of dressing wrong were out at ease. Ella-Beth was in a pink flowery dress and Lillian was in a pale blue one. They were on the verandah, but I still knocked politely on the door, before Lillian hollered, "Tristan! Alex is here!"

Tristan appeared moments later. He was wearing a set of pants without and frays and a white button up shirt. His hair had been neatly combed, but by the looks of it, he had since run his hand through it and messed it up. He was staring at me, quite shocked.

"Oh come on," I said with a smile. "You've seen dresses before."

"You've _never _worn a dress before."

"True. But there is a first time for everything."

"You look like...like a girl."

I shook my head. "No, really? What are the chances of that?"

"Sorry, Alex." He lowered his voice so that his sister's wouldn't hear him. "You look really, really nice. Like a beautiful Queen." And then his cheeks burned with a crimson colour. I smiled to let him know I'd appreciated his compliment.

Tristan's Mum appeared in the door way beside him.

"Good morning Mrs DeLazio. Thank you so much for allowing me to come with you."

Tristan put his hand over his mouth to stop him laughing. I kept my face bright, happy and respectful.

Mrs DeLazio smiled. Tristan had told me she had had her doubts about me acting proper for Church. "Your more than welcome, Alexandra."

I cringed inwardly at my full name, but outwardly, I did not falter.

The church was only a small local one, but I thought it was beautiful. I decided instantly that one day I would have a stain glass window in my house, somehow, somewhere. I also found it truly magical how the congregation moved as one – sitting, standing, kneeling and singing as if they were one person. Tristan seemed to almost nod off when the priest spoke after the reading from the Gospel, but I listened attentively.

Afterwards, I was bombarded with questions from Ella-Beth.

"Tris says you're no Catholic, Alex."

I shook my head.

"Then what are you?"

"I'm – nothing, I guess. I don't have a religion."

"So you don't believe in Jesus."

"I guess I believe there could have easily been a man who lived called Jesus Christ, but I don't know if I believe all those things he did."

"Oh." Ella-Beth fell silent. Tristan rolled his eyes at me, indicating his apparent dislike of his little sister's constant question. Before I could reply, Ella-Beth started up again. "Do you believe in heaven and hell?"

"Kind of – well, not really. I believe we go somewhere after death. Perhaps to a place, perhaps we are born again."

"But Alex, if you don't believe in Heaven, you won't go there after you die."

"Ella-Beth, I'm sure it's not like that."

But Ella-Beth was getting exceptionally worked up at this stage. "But Alex, what if you die?"

I laughed, as did Tristan. "I'm not planning on dying anytime soon, Ella."

I thought of all the things that had happened to me in the last year. How far I'd come. All the good times I'd had and the friend I'd made. I'd gone from a normal girl to a Queen and I knew that was the reason my life was looking so full and happy.

"I have too much to live for."

_**Ominous music fades in...kidding. Five Chapters to go, hang in there. I love you all, especially my reviewers. Usually it takes one nice review to get me writing another chapter, which is why this chapter is dedicated to XXxlovebreaksthebrokenxXX (and Chelsea, of course).**_

_**Stay tuned guys. The ending is going to be pretty full on!**_


	16. The Curse of Jealousy

_Jesse_

After Easter, it started to rain. At first, Alex and I decided not to visit Terabithia when it was wet, so I began spending most afternoons at her house. This quickly became boring, because even though her house was full of books and games and activities, there just wasn't that same magic that surrounded us at the end of every day.

After one week, Alex was fed up.

"This isn't the same," she said, slamming a book shut. "Come on. Let's go to Terabithia."

We each put on an extra jacket and I shoved a few books underneath it for entertainment once we got there. After a quick decision we decided to do without gumboots or an umbrella. We opened up the front door to find it was absolutely pouring. You couldn't make out anything through the rain.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked. Alex flashed me a playful smile and that was all the answer I needed. We set of at lightning speed, water from various puddles spraying up behind us as we went. The creek was filled to halfway and the water was rushing madly through it. Our bridge was still a good distance above the churning depths, but crossing it was as frightening as it had been the very first time I'd set foot on it.

As soon as we were safely in Terabithia, I switched my imagination on.

"Do you think it is a curse, my Queen?"

Alex turned slowly. The rain had lessened slightly, but still small drops of rain trickled down Alex's face and odd her nose and eyelashes. For some reason, it seemed to me as though the drops were sparkling in a non-existent light.

"Of course it as a curse. The Evil Lord cast it in our absence. We do not have enough magic to reverse it, so we will stay strong and wait until it passes."

There was the distant rumbling of thunder and Alex clutched at my wrist, which despite the cold suddenly burned.

"Let us proceed with caution, my King. Should the Evil Lord get his hands on either of us, it would be all over."

As we continued carefully through the undergrowth, I took a moment to wonder what this would look like to an outsider. To thirteen-year-olds, both on the verge of their fourteenth birthdays, trekking through an abandoned and thoroughly drenched forest as though they were crusaders or explorers. How a passer-by would have stared if they could hear us talk in our royal manner and discussing out magical kingdom as easily and truthfully as one might discuss what to have for dinner.

Perhaps some people would have turned their noses up. At that age, children should be more mature. They should get their heads out of the clouds and focus on real life.

But then, a far greater group of people would have stopped and reflected on their own childhoods. Tears would have formed in their eyes as the remembered what it was like to run around, saving princesses and slaying dragons. Privately they would have applauded our imaginations and how in a world dominated by technology, we were still proving our own mind was our greatest treasure and asset.

I blinked. We'd arrived quietly into our clearing. The surrounding trees had protected it from most of the rain but there was mist clinging to the edges. It looked truly magical.

We headed for the shelter of the castle stronghold and I was unsurprised to find it was warm and comfortable inside.

"Why don't you read from Narnia?" Alex suggested, settling back against a cushion.

I realised I had been momentarily staring at one of Jesse's pictures on the wall. Lately, his quickly scrawled name had been glaring down at me, as though it was taunting me. _Jesse Aarons. _He had been the first King. He and Leslie had discovered this kingdom. Alex and I probably wouldn't have been here without them.

We probably wouldn't have even been friends.

But what of Brandon? In all the stories I had read, power was inherited. Despite what Alex had said, I knew that it wouldn't feel right if we told Brandon the truth and then he didn't become King. Of course, there was a high chance he would just laugh at both of us and want nothing to do with our 'kid's game'.

Even so, I couldn't help but experience that terrible sinking feeling. What if he did want a part of it? I was King of Terabithia, I wanted to be King, I couldn't not be King...

I deserved –

"Tristan?"

"Oh, sure."

I pulled out _Voyage of the Dawn Treader _and found the place I had been up to. Caspian, Lucy, Edward and Reepicheep had just discovered the amazing powers of the mystical lake they had stumbled across – everything that touched the water turned to gold.

" 'And I bind all of you to secrecy. No one must know of this. Not even Drinian – on pain of death, do you hear me?'

'Who are you talking to?' said Edmund. 'I'm no subject of yours. If anything it's the other way around. I'm one of the four ancient sovereigns of Narnia and you are under allegiance to the High King my brother.'

'So it has come to that, King Edmund, has it?' said Caspian, laying his hand on his sword-hilt."

I paused to take a breath. Was the story itself trying to tell me something? Would I need to learn to share or at least, call a truce? I shook my head and continued reading.

*******

The next day at school we had Maths first up in the morning and even Alex and I knew not to pass notes. I kept my head down and did my work, though my mind wondered near and far and for the most part I was day-dreaming about a night on a fantasy-like crusade. I wondered if there was a story somewhere I could read that was like that. Or maybe I would just write it.

And hour into the double lesson, the door smashed open and in the doorway stood none other than Brandon, scowling.

He offered no explanation for his late arrival or his obvious anger and disgust. He took his seat and most of his fellow class mates had the sense to avert their eyes. I just shook my head but then I noticed Alex beside me. She was staring at Brandon thoughtfully and my blood began to boil.

Tanya was no longer bothering us and no longer did anyone else laugh behind our backs at our strange friendship. After his unknowing visit into Terabithia, Brandon had also steered clear of us and I couldn't have been happier with this arrangement. So what on Earth was Alex thinking?

That afternoon Alex was filled with a renowned sense of purpose.

"Let's go to Brandon's house."

I spun around so fast I almost fell over. "_What?"_

"You saw how upset he was this morning –"

"Upset? More like murderous."

"Obviously things are not well in his house. I think it's time we told him about his father. Or at least what we suspect."

"No. Why should we?"

"Tristan? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. It's just – I've never felt like sharing Terabithia."

"You don't have to."

We set off in the direction Brandon had indicated and after passing through the Grove of Pines we arrived in the back field of a small farm far sooner than I had expected. Unafraid, Alex marched across the field and knocked squarely on the front door. It opened almost instantly.

Brandon stood in the doorway, wearing the same scowl he had had on that very morning But when he comprehended who had knocked on his door the scowl faded and he began to smile.

"Hey, Alex. Can't resist me then?"

I growled under my breath and neither Alex nor Brandon noticed.

"Either deflate your ego or we're going," said Alex promptly.

"Fine. What do you want?"

"Well, you kinda showed up late this morning. Are things not good here?"

Brandon shrugged, but his pained eyes showed his true pain and I actually felt sympathetic towards his plight.

"Well, this is going to sound absurd but we think we know who your father is."

Brandon looked shocked. This was obviously not what he had been expecting to hear.

"Can we come in?" I asked politely. Brandon nodded and led us to his living room. Apparently his Mum wasn't home. I made sure I sat next to Alex.

"Do you know the story of Leslie and Jesse?" Alex asked once we were all seated. "It's a Lark Creek legend, if you will."

"Of course I do. Mum lived here years ago. This is where she met my father. Still think you know who he is?"

Alex's eyes widened, as did my own, but we didn't say anything. I decided it was my turn to take over.

"Well, allow me to give you my version of the story."

Brandon frowned. "Is this relevant?" He said rudely.

I nodded. "About thirty odd years ago there was a pair of friends. Leslie Burke...and Jesse Aarons."

_**Hey everyone. It's been ages, but even though it's my holidays I've had so much stuff on you wouldn't believe.**_

_**Anyway, this is Chapter 16...so 4 more to go! Hang in there and send me your predictions and requests. I'm always open to new directions, eve this far into the story. And Chelsea, yes the rope is coming back into it. Sorry.**_

_**Merry Christmas everyone!**_


	17. Wanda Kay

_Alex_

"Look I don't want to hear this freaking story!"

I could have hit myself. Of course Brandon was upset over whatever was happening between his mother and her boyfriend. He probably wanted nothing more than to be left alone, and we had waltzed in uninvited and still hadn't even gotten to the point of why we were here.

I looked helplessly at Tristan. I half expected for him to yell back or get up and leave. He hated Brandon on principal after all. I was surprised to find his eyes were full of pity and understanding. It dawned on me that Tristan knew exactly what it was like to have a dysfunctional family.

Without a word, my best friend reached inside his jacket and removed two pieces of paper that were only slightly creased. He lay them down on the coffee table facing Brandon.

"You kept my drawing? And hey – is that other one mine too? "

Tristan ignored his question. "This is the one drawn by you, obviously. However, this one is drawn by Jesse Aarons."

Comprehension slowly lit up Brandon's face. Then it faded as soon as it had come. "Coincidence."

"What?" I questioned. "That he shares your last name? That you both have the same talent for drawing? That you even sign your work in the same handwriting?"

Brandon shrugged, but he didn't look quite so confident now.

"Perhaps it is all a coincidence. But you could always just ask your Mum straight out now. If she says no, let it go. Don't you want to know who your father is?"

"No! He left me, he left my Mum. If he had stayed, we wouldn't have gone through everything we've been through."

"I don't believe that," said Tristan.

"What?"

"I don't believe that Jesse Aarons is a bad guy."

"Not everyone is a saint, DeLazio."

"I know that. But you know Jesse's story, right? He went through a lot of trauma when he was very young. And yet I have never heard one person say he went off the rails after Leslie's death." Tristan's voice went quiet again, so soft that even I had to strain to hear him and I was right beside him. "Besides he was – he is a King."

"Speak up, DeLazio. Look, why do you care? Why do you want to help me find my father anyway?"

I shot Tristan a questioning gaze. Should we tell him? He might think we were even more insane then before. I mean, in the end, we were two teenagers who believed strongly in a fantasy kingdom. It wasn't that I was afraid or ashamed to admit to my beliefs and I would stand by Terabithia in the end. It was more that I couldn't stand to have the kingdom that had changed my life laughed at. Tristan lifted his shoulders slightly. A shrug. He didn't care either way. Perhaps he did want Brandon to know.

"That hut in the forest," I said slowly, "we think Jesse Aarons built it. All the drawings we found within it were his. We go there every afternoon, just as we think he did. I guess after all this time we'd really like to meet him."

"I'm sorry, seeing as I don't even believe he is my father, I don't have his number lying around," said Brandon heatedly.

"But your Mum might. Why don't you ask? Wouldn't you like to meet him too?"

"Haven't I already said no to that?"

"Why – are you afraid?"

"No. Haven't we already established that I hate him? I hate my father, OK! He left Mum and I all alone to fend for ourselves. He's never even visited or called or even sent a birthday card."

This hit home. In my mind, I pictured Jesse Aarons as a hero. Even now, in his late thirties, all that came to mind was a knight in shining armour, or at least the perfect gentleman. I pictured Mr Aarons would have his own art studio or creative company or something. And here was possibly his own son, befouling his name, slandering him.

With good reason too. If Jesse Aarons had really left a woman and his son behind, he deserved nearly every insult he was given, traumatic past or not.

"I _still_ don't believe that," Tristan said softly. "Something's not right with this. I don't believe Jesse Aarons can't be a bad guy."

"Geez, DeLazio, you know what he was like when he was eleven. People change."

"But –" I began. I was cut short by the door opening and another voice ringing out.

"Brandon, I'm home, have you – oh. Hello kids."

Brandon's Mum was of a medium height and slim. She had brown hair and a small pointed nose. She was really quite beautiful in a jeans and t-shirt way. Her face initially registered shock but then it slipped into a warm smile.

"I'm very pleased to meet two friends of my son. My name is Ms Moore."

"Mum, they were just leaving –"

"It's great to meet you Ms Moore, my name is Alex. I live at the Burke's place."

Grief struck Ms Moore's features. "The Burke's place. Leslie. I went to school with Leslie Burke."

"_You did?" _We three children said at once.

"Oh yes. Only for one year though. I hated her at first, because she stole my spotlight. And by the time I had learned to appreciate her..."

Brandon's Mum broke off and bowed her head.

I tried again. "Ms Moore – "

"Oh, call me Kay. I've decided Ms Moore sounds far too proper."

"Kay?" Tristan inquired.

"Yes. You see my real name is Wanda. Wanda Kay Moore. But I dropped Wanda a long time ago, as any sane person would."

"Kay," I said. "If you went to school with Leslie, you must also have known Jesse. Jesse Burke."

Kay bit her lip. "Yes. Yes I did." She took a seat next to her son and said no more. Brandon leaned forward, tears in his eyes.

"Mum? Is Jesse my father?"

Kay Moore sighed. "I knew this would come back and haunt me one day. Let me tell you kids a story, OK? I grew up here, in Lark Creek. I was from a poor family – in fact, there weren't many people in Lark Creek at that time that weren't poor. But I was intelligent. My parents treated me as a prodigy and as a child, I was spoilt. So long as I delivered the grades, I reaped the rewards. By the time I was eleven, I'll admit I was a precious pain in the ass. Still, I was the smartest in the grade by a long shot.

"Then Leslie arrived. She was strange and funky, but she was smart, too. And creative, and rich. I detested her. Imagine when her compositions started being read out in class instead of mine!" Kay chuckled quietly. "Of course, my hate doubled when she became friends with Jesse. I had an immense crush on Jesse and could not understand at the time why he ignored me. I realise later that no one in their right mind would have liked me.

"Slowly, though, I began to warm towards Leslie. She was always happy and kind and she even helped reform the school bully. However, just as I was starting to think up ways I could become her friend she – she died. I don't think Lark Creek has ever been the same since. Jesse went off the rails slightly. His little sister seemed to help calm him, but after high school he took off. I graduated as the best in the school, and immediately set off to College in DC. That's where things went downhill for me.

"I hated the course I was doing and started thinking 'what's the point?' Leslie came into my thoughts alot. If there was one thing I had learned from her, it was that life was short. So, I dropped out of College after a year or so and planned to earn some money so I could travel the world. What I quickly realised is that I was a hopeless worker. All my life my parents had catered for my ever needs. The only thing I was good at was studying and writing compositions. Within another few years, I was back where it had all began – Lark Creek, the centre of nowhere. I wasn't alone though. After years of also doing very little, Jesse Aarons had ended up in Lark Creek as well. He was very surprised to see me, one day at the local store. I had obviously change a lot since school – OK, I was a completely different person. I fell in love with him all over again, and for the first time, he loved me too.

"We saw each other for almost a year, but I could see that being in Lark Creek wasn't good for him. I also knew, deep in my heart, that I wasn't good for him. He needed a life well away from Lark Creek with nothing to remind him of Leslie. Only when he was fully recovered could he return. So – I broke up with him and suggested he travel across the US. He took my advice and that was the last time I saw him."

Tear began flowing down Kay's cheeks. I was shocked. I had been spell bound by her story, but I almost never saw an adult cry, especially not an adult as strong as Kay.

"I couldn't have know – I didn't ...A month later, I found out I was pregnant with you. But I didn't want to chase him down and drag him back here. I didn't want to be the reason he never got on with his life. I left Lark Creek myself, just after you were born Brandon. I never told you because I thought it was best if I erased him entirely. He doesn't know either. He doesn't know he has a child. I'm sorry."

Brandon was also crying now and he wrapped his arms around his mother, not something you expected of your regular, tough-guy teenager.

I met Tristan's gaze. We were both at a loss for words.

_**Greetings readers! I've gone from wishing you a Merry Christmas to now – Happy Easter. Sorry. Life is full of work. 3 more chapters shouldn't be too hard though. And I hope now when you all re-read bridge to Terabithia, you won't be too hard on Wanda Kay Moore!**_

_**xox**_


	18. You Promised!

_**Don't forget to Review, Review, Review. Trust me, this time around – you're going to want to.**_

_**NB: I've decided to add the 19**__**th**__** Chapter when my review counts get to 50...mwa ha ha ha ha...**_

_Tristan_

Well, at least we had had a major breakthrough. It was strange to think that the original King of Terabithia was Brandon's father. Even though we had guessed the truth for some time now, hearing it from Kay made it final.

Strangely enough, I didn't mind as much as I thought I would. Like Alex has said, Terabithia was not inherited but earned. Plus, I was yet to know the exact depth of Brandon's imagination. For all we knew, he could have none at all.

Brandon immediately asked to meet his father, and Alex and I followed through with an expression of interest as well. Kay looked a bit shock at our curiosity, but her response was not what we had been hoping for.

"I'm sorry. I'll admit I've kept track of him – he now owns an art company and gallery in New York. But I don't know his phone number or his address."

And that had been that. To me, it had seemed pretty final.

Alex, of course, was not easily swayed. She searched Jesse Aarons on the internet and before long; she had the email address of the company. I had originally told her there was no way he would reply or even take notice of an email sent from two kids, but then Alex told me what she had put in the subject line: Terabithia.

If that didn't get his attention, I didn't know what would.

However, a week went by and no reply came. We kept ourselves occupied by building a battle fortress in Terabithia – otherwise known as a large pile of branches to hide behind while launching attacks at the minions of the Evil Lord.

This had only become possible because the rain had abated slightly. Then, out of nowhere, it began pouring again. For three days straight it bucketed without so much as a moment's break. I spent my time either reading stories at Alex's house or designing something that would launch rocks at our enemy in my shed.

At school, Brandon started hanging out with us. This made Tanya extremely grumpy and at the start I was none too pleased either. However, even I couldn't admit that while Brandon had his moments, for the most part he was incredibly cool. On one of the raining afternoons he also came by Alex's house and showed us some of his drawings. To our surprise and Alex's delight, it turned out he had a pretty darn good imagination himself.

"Is that Aslan? With Lucy and Susan riding on his back?"

"Sure is."

"What's this?" I asked, pointing at a landscape picture. It showed a forest shining with light. A waterfall ran to one side and in the distance there was a great tower."

"Well, it's the forest behind our houses." Brandon blushed. "The castle is your hut thing. I kinda updated it."

"Awesome!"

After Brandon had left, Alex rounded on me. "I think we should tell him."

"Tell him what?" I replied, thoroughly perplexed.

"You know," she said and lowered her voice, "about Terabithia."

"What? No!"

"Tristan, his father is the reason we found it. Probably the reason we're friends."

"Don't say that."

"You were a jerk to me until we crossed the bridge for the first time."

I opened my mouth and shut it, feeling slightly hurt until I saw Alex's smile, bright as the sun. She laughed and I joined in. "OK, yes, I was admittedly a jerk. Well, not really. You were the new girl. There's a certain procedure one must follow."

Alex smiled, but then became serious. "I just want to tell him about it. What are you afraid of?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "Oh, I don't know, the fact that he may laugh his head off, call us freaks and never talk to us again."

_Which – well, I suppose I would actually miss him, _I thought grudgingly.

"Tristan, look at me," said Alex, so I did, fixing my doubting eyes on her shining ones. "He won't laugh. And you'll always be King."

"I know that. Once a King or Queen of Terabithia, always a King or Queen of Terabithia."

"But of course, sire."

Even through the rain, a few small streaks of sunlight shone through the living room window and hit the opposite wall. The golden paint lit up just as it did every afternoon and we sat for a while happily in its glow.

"Have you gotten a reply from Jesse – I mean, Mr Aarons yet?"

"No," said Alex, though she didn't sound dejected. "But I know one will come soon."

"Ever the optimist."

Alex grinned. "Ever the optimist."

* * *

The next day was Saturday and I woke to the sound of the phone ringing. I listened for the noise of one of my other family members stirring in order to answer it, but no familiar rustling of bedclothes met my ear. Sighing, I got up out of bed and ran as silently as possible to answer it.

"Hello?" I said sleepily.

"Tristan?"

"Alex? Couldn't you have called at a more civilised hour?"

"I've been up since dawn attempting to write poetry."

I chuckled. "You never cease to amaze me. How goes said poetry?"

"Woeful. The words are in my head, I just can't seem to get them down."

"Yeah, writing them down generally is the key. So, is that why you called? In need of inspiration?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I called because Mr Aarons replied!"

I almost dropped the phone. "No way! What did he say?"

"His email was very nice. He asked several questions. I replied telling him all about Kay. I also told him where I lived and where you lived."

"He'd better not turn out to be a stalker..."

"Yes well, I sent the email early this morning, and within half an hour he had replied again."

I was beginning to shake all over. Luck was definitely on our side. Or perhaps it was a good dose of Terabithian magic, aiding us in our time of need."

"And get this – he's in Washington! Not only that, he says he hasn't visited Lark Creek in ages, so he'll come down for a visit tomorrow."

I swear I stopped breathing. The original King, Jesse Aarons, was coming back to Lark Creek. The best friend of the legendary Leslie Burke. The original co-founder of Terabithia. The great artist.

He was coming home.

"Tristan? You still there?"

"Yeah. This is amazing."

"Do you want to come over?"

I was ready to drop the phone and run there right now, but a sudden memory held me back. Damn. I was supposed to go shopping with Mum, Ella-Beth and Chelsea in town today.

"I'm sorry Alex; I have to go shopping this morning. But I'll be over in the evening, alright?"

"Sure. I'll keep at the poetry. Or go outside in search of inspiration."

Outside, thunder boomed ominously and rain began thundering on the roof. A thought struck me.

"Alex," I said evenly, "don't go to Terabithia today. Not without me."

"Sure, Tristan," she answered casually. "See you later."

She hung up.

My day was exceptionally tedious. It was spent entirely indoors, trawling endlessly through what little amount of shops and stores Lark Creek had to offer. I let Mum, Ella-Beth and Chelsea do all the talking and searching, which allowed me to comfortably stay lost in my own thoughts. All thoughts were, of course, on Jesse Aarons.

What would he think of us? Would he admire our courage and imagination? Or would he hate us for intruding on such a special and secretive part in his life? What would he think when he met Kay again? When he found out Brandon was his son? In my head I saw him to be regretful of the years he'd lost with his son and immediately make plans to become a part of Brandon's life. I saw him as the perfect father.

Perhaps I saw this because of my own relationship with my father. My Dad had never hit me. But he yelled, constantly. He was rarely happy. And what effort he made was for the girls, my three sisters, never for me.

I was glad when we finally drove back home. I ran straight to Alex's, telling Mum not to expect me until much later. It was five o'clock in the afternoon, and still pouring. I got drenched running the short distance between our two houses.

I went straight through the front door and called out her name. Carly stuck her head out of the kitchen.

"Hello, Tristan. Alex told me you'd be over for dinner. I hope you like lasagne."

"Where's Alex?"

"Oh, she's out down by the creek. Probably swinging on that rope she loves."

Time seemed to stand still. My breathing became quite shallow and my face paled. She had promised. _She had promised..._

"Tristan? Are you alright?"

Without another word I sprinted out the back door.

"Be back in time for dinner!" Carly called after me, clear oblivious to my terror.

I ran through Alex's back yard and continued down the creek.

"Alex!" I yelled. "ALEX!"

The rain made it hard to see things even immediately in front of me, but suddenly, I saw a flash of yellow jacket. Alex was still swinging on the rope. Relief flooded me, but my blood still sang with anger.

"Alex! You promised! Get off now, it's too dangerous!"

I had reached the edge of the creek. Alex landed neatly on the other side of the creek bed.

"You promised!" I almost screamed at her. She looked shocked at my outburst. Thunder rumbled.

"Tristan, I'm fine," she shouted back above the rain. "It's so much fun."

"No! It's tempting fate! Alex, you –"

Thunder rumbled again, loud enough to cut off the end of my sentence. Out of the blue, the sky lit up as lighting cut through the grey clouds. From deep within Terabithia their came a resounding _crack _and _smash _as a tree toppled to the ground.

It all happened so fast. Alex looked around her in shock at the sound. She turned and stepped subconsciously backward. Her foot hit the edge of the creek bed, and the soaked through dirt crumbled easily under her weight. She lost her balance instantly and she let out a piercing cry that was lost in the thunder and rain and she toppled helplessly into the swollen, surging creek.

The very same creek that had been waiting almost thirty years for its next prey.


	19. Let Her Live

_**This chapter is from 2 points of view. Tristan, then Alex's.**_

_**This chapter is dedicated to all my readers and reviewers, especially if you have stuck with Tristan and Alex until the very end...**_

_Tristan_

I watched Alex fall as if in slow motion. The rain pelted against my skin, but I didn't feel it. Thunder roared in my ears, but I didn't hear it. I could sense nothing but fear and terror as Alex's body met the river's powerful grasp.

I didn't think. I didn't call out. I did the only thing my body would allow me to do, as my mind refused to let history repeat itself.

I jumped straight in after her.

Thinking back, that rash action was incredibly stupid.

I could have slipped and fallen, breaking my neck. I could have miscalculated the depth and shattered all the bones in both my legs. I could have instantly been pulled under by the current and never surfaced again.

By some incredible, timely luck, none of these things happened. My legs sliced the water, but didn't meet ground. I stayed myself instantly with my arms, refusing to be drawn under. However, the current still treated me as though I was nothing more than an insignificant tree branch and lurched me forward mercilessly. Alex was already several metres ahead of me. The water shoved her roughly against the side and she cried out. I stretched myself out to gain speed and used my arms to keep in control.

"Alex!" I managed to yell before water splashed against my face, making me choke and cough.

"Tristan!" she screamed back. "_I can't swim!"_

Terror gripped my heart and I swam resolutely forward, gaining on her. She was thrown against the side once more, before the water sucked her down into its sinister depths.

No.

_No._

I was almost upon her, but her head had not come back up. Wind roared in my ears and still the rain poured down, giving further strength to the creek. No, not a creek. A raging torrent my best friend was now trapped under.

I reached the spot she had gone down and stretched out to the edge, grabbing hold of a root. With the other hand I searched blindly in the water for her. It was useless, I couldn't reach far enough, the water had become far too deep.

I would have to dive.

I took a deep breath and plunged downward, striking my legs out not only to help me down but to keep me from being swept away. I couldn't see anything, so again I reached out blindly, caring little for my own safety.

Nothing. I felt nothing.

My heart was pounding. I would have to go up for a breath soon. By then it would be too late. She had been under too long. Perhaps she had already been swept away. Maybe it was already too late...

No!

_Please,_ I begged silently, only not to God. Not to an angel. Not to any great power. I called out to Terabithia, as I reached out my hand again; I also reached for its magic. I called out to Jesse Aarons.

I called out to Leslie.

_Please._

A voice echoed in his ear. "Maybe we ought to forget it today." Another voice, higher and full of light replied. "C'mon Jess. We can make it."

And at that exact moment, my hand brushed against skin.

I grabbed Alex's arm in both of my hands and pulled her upwards. It was like carrying a dead weight, and there was little air left in my lungs. It was a terrible struggle of will not to open my mouth and breathe in water itself.

Just when I thought I would give in, my head broke the surface. I clung to the side of the creek and breathed in beautiful, pure air. Then my mind snapped into gear. _Alex._

I grabbed her around the waist. He eyes were close and her face was almost blue. She was terribly, terribly cold.

"Alex."

She didn't stir. I would have to get her out of the creek alone.

Little by little, I pushed her up the side. I had never been particularly strong and I had not firm footing so at the same time I also had to keep afloat. After an intense struggle, she was lying on the edge. I scrambled out quickly.

"Alex. Alex!'

I pushed down on her chest. Once, twice, three times. She spluttered and coughed up a decent amount of water. I breathed a sigh of relief, but after she had coughed, she went back to lying completely still. She was still so very cold.

It was not ever yet.

I wanted to run and get help, but I couldn't just leave her there. I looked around wildly. I hadn't a clue where I was. Clearly, we had travelled further in the creek then I had thought.

"Help!" I yelled out desperately. "HELP!"

Once more, it was Terabithia who answered my call.

"Tristan?!" I heard a familiar voice cry and Brandon burst through some nearby bushes. His eyes widened when he saw me, scratched and soaking wet, kneeling next to Alex's unconscious body.

"Brandon," I attempt to shout again, but my voice had gone hoarse. "Run. Get help."

Brandon turned and ran off instantly. His house couldn't be too far away. Help was on its way.

I took off my jacket; wrung it out the best I could and then placed it over Alex. I grabbed her hand and reached out to Leslie once more.

_Please. Let her live. _

_Please_.

_Alex_

I felt decidedly warm and comfortable. Someone was speaking to me, but I couldn't be bothered to distinguish the words. Who was it? It sounded like Carly. Oops. Maybe I should be listening. No, wait. It wasn't Carly. The voice was still female, but it was younger and spirited. It was like I imagined a lark's voice would sound like if one could talk, perhaps if I were in Narnia. Now that I was listening to the voice, words formed and floated over me.

"Give us wisdom to discern this evil, and power to overcome it...arise, king and let us proceed into our kingdom... We need a place. Just for us...."

There were other sentences, short snippets of conversation I could quite make out. And then a long laugh, clear as a bell.

Out of nowhere, two new voices chimed in. They were both male and decidedly louder and stronger than the strange girl's voice.

"Alex. Wake up."

"Come on Alex. Where's that fire we all know you have in you?"

I became intensely aware I was lying down and my eyes were closed. I opened them the tiniest bit and white light flooded my pupils. The light was almost powerful enough to cause pain, but ever so slowly, I edged my eyelids open. The first thing I noticed was that everything around me was white. I was lying in bed and two boys with familiar faces were sitting by my bedside.

"Tristan," I said softly. "Brandon."

Their faces broke into identical grins.

"Hey, Al," Brandon said lightly, "enjoy your snooze? You were hibernating like a polar bear."

Tristan tried to act laid-back too, but I could see the tears in his eyes and he was shaking slightly when he spoke. "Don't you ever, _ever _scare me like that again."

I was confused. Where was I? What was he talking about?

In one great flood of memory, it all came back.

The lightning strike. Turning and losing my balance. The edge of the creek bed crumbling away. Then falling, falling. Down into the ice-cold water. Dashed against the sides like a rag doll. Pulled under by the raging waters steadfast grip. Then darkness.

My face must have paled, because Tristan reached for my hand. "It's OK, Alex," he soothed. "It's alright."

"How is it I'm – I'm still alive?"

The edges of Tristan's mouth turned up ever so slightly. "I jumped in after you remember?"

More recollections came crashing down on top of me. The splash of water as Tristan entered the creek. Him screaming my name in desperation. My hopeless reply and admittance of my greatest secret. Then Tristan swimming toward me with determination in his eyes.

The door burst open and my Mum, Carly, walked in.

"Hey boys, how is she...?" Carly trailed off and noticed my eyes were open. She screeched. "Honey! You're awake!"

The door burst open again and more people flooded in. Tristan's parents, Wanda Kay and Ella-Beth.

Carly was at my side in an instant. "How are you feeling? Is there any pain?"

Kay had a far more serious sounding question. "Alex, what happened?"

Both their questions could wait. Comprehension was dawning on me. Tristan hadn't just jumped in after me. I locked my eyes onto his. "Tristan – you saved my life."

"What?" said Mr DeLazio quietly, staring at his son.

"Tell them, Tristan," said Brandon.

Tristan blushed, but began to tell his story. "I had gone over to Alex's house to see her and Carly told me she was out swinging on her rope. A few months back Alex had put up a rope next to – next to the old one. She told me it was fun, but I made her promise not to swing on it. It was far too similar to what had been. It scared me."

At that moment, I felt so dumb. Even though it hadn't been the rope that had caused my near-death experience, it could have easily been. Why didn't I just listen to Tristan in the first place?

"The rope broke," said Kay, her eyes wide.

"No," said Tristan. "I ran out and it was pouring with rain. Alex got off the rope when I told her. But then, a tree fell down in the forest which startled her. She stepped backward and the edge of the creek collapsed. She fell in. And I jumped in after her."

Ella-Beth was staring at her older brother, her eyes wide, enraptured by his story. Tristan pressed on, the next few sentences coming out in quick succession and threatening to overlap each other.

"Once in I called out to Alex and she told me she couldn't swim. The current was strong, but it helped me swim towards her. Just before I reached her, she went under. The water was murky, I couldn't see anything. I reached for her but felt nothing. So I dived under. I was so scared I wouldn't find her in time, but I did. I dragged her out of the water. She was unconscious. I pushed down her chest and she coughed up water. Then she went still. She was so still, so cold. I called out for help and Brandon arrived. He ran for his house to get Kay and ring an ambulance. I waited with Alex. She was so cold – so –"

Tristan choked back sobs. Retelling his story had obviously made him relive his nightmare. I was speechless too. If it hadn't for Tristan, I wouldn't be here right now. The thought sent shivers down my spine. Long ago, when I had broken my leg I had made a promise to myself I would never be reckless again. And here I was, back in hospital, six years later, lucky to have escaped with my life. Is this what it was going to take for me to learn my lesson?

"Thanks Tristan," I said, trying to put all the gratitude I was feeling into two words. I would thank him again, later. In Terabithia. At my house. At school. I would thank him every day of my life, seeing as he was the reason I was still living it.

"He's a hero," said Kay, causing Tristan to go bright red. "Especially how he's sat by her since yesterday."

I blinked. I'd been out cold since yesterday.

"They are both heroes," said Mr DeLazio, gesturing to Brandon too, whose cheeks also gained a pink tinge. Mr DeLazio put his hand on his sons shoulder. "I'm so proud of you, son."

Tristan's face lit up.

A nurse ducked her head around the door. "Glad to see you up, Miss Richards. I'll be back in half an hour with some medicine OK? Oh, and there's someone here to see you."

She held opened the door and a man in his late thirties walked in. He had dark hair but upon seeing his face I did a double-take. He looked exactly like Brandon, except for Brandon's sandy coloured hair.

Tristan and I stared. Kay opened her mouth in shock. Tristan's parent, Ella-Beth, Carly and Brandon all looked confused.

"I'm sorry to intrude like this," the man said, his voice deep and pleasant. "But I heard of the accident and came here to see if Miss Alex Richards was alright." He was still smiling but a shadow crossed his face.

"I didn't think it possible that history could repeat itself."


	20. Jesse Aarons

_**Well I'm back. No scrap that, Tristan and Alex are back. And so is the legend himself, Jesse Aarons. The wait's been long I know. Hope you enjoy.**_

_Tristan_

It was my Mum who broke the awkward silence first with the question that was on the lips of at least five people in the room.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Mum prided herself on knowing ninety percent of the town's population.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," the man said. "I should have introduced myself first. My name is –"

"Jesse," Kay cut in, her voice soft. "Jesse Aarons."

Beside me, Brandon tensed and went pale. He looked the long-lost Jesse Aarons up and down and his fists clenched. I too, stared at Mr Aarons, the King of the past. Rather than study his features or clothing, I saw the spark of imagination in his eye. I saw the way he held himself tall and proud – regally. Even as an adult, he was just as I had hoped he would be. I could see the King he had been, the King he still was.

You could take the boy at of Terabithia, but you couldn't take Terabithia out of the boy.

"Kay," said Jesse slowly. "Is that you?"

Kay smiled and nodded. With that, Brandon got to his feet and left the room, without uttering a single word.

Ella-Beth decided to chime in. "Mum told me a story about a boy called Jesse Aarons once. Everyone in Lark Creek knows the story. His friend drowned in the creek. Leslie –"

"Ella!" I warned my sister.

"It's quite alright," said Jesse. He turned to Ella-Beth. "It's a sad story, isn't it? But it happened a long time ago."

There was something in his eyes that even Ella-Beth couldn't miss. "Are you – are you _the _Jesse Aarons?"

"Yes, I guess I am."

Ella-Beth's eyes widened considerably and I knew to her meeting Jesse was like meeting a celebrity. She was going to have a lot to tell her friends at school. We all would.

"I've been meaning to visit Lark Creek for some time, and when this lucky young lady here sent me an email, I decided the time was right. This is not exactly the news I was hoping to arrive to, though. I couldn't believe my ears when I was told what had happened to you, Alex. I went into shock."

"Sorry, Mr Aarons."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Maybe, in the future, could you be a little more careful, though? It may save me a heart attack."

"Yes, of course."

I couldn't help but sigh. "So when I tell you to be careful, you ignore me, but when Mr Aarons tells you..."

"Sorry, Tristan."

"Alex, honey," Carly said. "Why did you write an email to Mr Aarons?"

Alex looked up at her Mum and then at Kay and was at a loss for words. Kay met my best friend's gaze and nodded.

"Jesse, perhaps we could talk outside?'

Jesse nodded and the two exited. My Mum signalled to Ella-Beth and me. "It's time we were getting home too."

I opened my mouth to object, but Alex cut me off. "No, Tristan, go home and get a good night's sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"

I raised my hands in a gesture of defeat and followed my parents out. The ride home was mainly filled with Ella-Beth's amazement at meeting _the _Jesse Aarons and how brave I was. I went red at first, but then just smiled and ruffled her hair.

It was Dad who came to say goodnight to me, in the room I shared with Ella-Beth.

"Tristan? You awake?"

I sat up. "Yes."

Dad sat down on the end of my bed and was silent for a moment. When he spoke, it seemed he was slightly choked up. "These last few years, they haven't been easy. In fact, it's never been easy. We always wanted a family, your Mum and I, but we never thought about the cost...I thought working all the hours I did would give you kids a better childhood. But it's means I've missed so much."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Dad, you –"

"You saved that girl, Alex, because you were such a strong swimmer. It made me think. I never taught you to swim."

"No, Chelsea taught me, but – "

"I never threw a ball with you. Or taught you how to climb trees. How to build things. That's what I should have been doing all those years."

I was feeling distinctly uncomfortable now. Dad had always been so serious, so strong. And here he was showing more emotion then I had thought he actually possessed. "Dad's, its fine, I mean I'm thirteen now."

"It's not too late, is it?"

I thought of what had previously been impossible: Dad and I, out in the backyard in the afternoon sun, throwing a football. No, it was definitely not too late. "Course not," I said.

Dad reached forward then tentatively ruffled my hair. "Get some sleep Tristan. Even heroes get tired."

Well, I did try and sleep. However, just as the previous nights, my sleep was plagued by nightmares. It seemed as soon as I shut my eyes there was water all around me, crushing down on me. I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe but I could still here lightning and thunder and Alex's cries...and then, my dream shifted. There was sunlight and I was on the ground of a forest beside a tree. While I lay there, confused, a small dog came bounding past me. Off in the distance I heard voices calling: "PT! PT!" "Jess, did you see where he went?"

I sat up, just as a boy appeared from behind a tree. It wasn't Jesse Aarons. It was Brandon. He couldn't see me. Alex appeared beside him and grabbed his hand...

My eyes snapped open. I checked the clock beside my bed. It was 8 o'clock. I was going to miss the bus if I wasn't ready in 15 minutes. Wait, something was wrong. Why hadn't I woken earlier? Dad. I'd somehow slept through the sound of Dad driving off to work. I clambered up on my bed and looked through my window. Dad's car was still in the driveway.

He hadn't gone to work.

I bounded downstairs to find Dad helping Mum with breakfast. He gave me an explanation before I could even ask.

"I've taken two week's paid leave while I try to figure out where I should go from here. At the moment, I'll probably find another job, one closer to home."

So it was true. Miracles did happen.

At school I was bombarded by questions. The story behind the reason Alex was in hospital was now widely known, and people were drawing comparisons between our 'adventure' and Leslie's story left, right and centre. I refused to do a detailed recount, but I was happy to tell people that Alex was OK and would be out of hospital soon.

Though, there was one request that shocked me unlike any other. It was on the oval at lunch.

"Tristan!"

I turned around at the sound of Tanya's voice and geared up for a fight, either physical or verbal. Tanya walked right up to me, until I could clearly see all the make-up she had slathered onto her face that morning.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound tough. In the past, standing my ground in front of Tanya had been a challenge. But now, I couldn't remember what I was afraid of. She wasn't the physical type; it had been her words that had stung more than any slap ever could.

_And yet...why didn't I just ignore what she said? _I thought.

"Tristan, will you see Alex today? Or tomorrow?"

This was not what I had been expecting. "Yeah," I said, sounding stupid as I repeated myself. "Probably."

Tanya lowered her voice. "Could you tell her I'm sorry?"

I almost reeled backward from surprise. Then, anger mounted. "Oh, so suddenly because she was on the brink of death you feel guilty and have decided now's the right time to play princess?"

Tanya went pale from the harshness of my words. "No," she then said defiantly. "I'd been meaning to apologise for a long time. Ever since she stood up to me in Art. It made me think and –" Tanya cut herself short. I swore I could actually see tears in her eyes, but before I could get a word in she finished off with, "Just tell her I'm sorry, OK!"

It definitely was an interesting day at school. The thing that was of the most significance, however, I didn't notice until the very end of the day.

Brandon wasn't at school.

That afternoon I took my time walking from where I got off the bus to home. There would be no Terabithia this afternoon. Once at home, though, I found Ella-Beth waiting for me by the door.

"Tris, Tris, guess what?"

"What," I said, playing along for her sake.

My little sister pointed to Alex's house. "Alex is home!"

And just like that I dropped my school bag and sprinted all the way over to my best friend's house. If Alex had been running beside me at that moment I would have beaten her easily. I knocked once on the door, but then went straight inside, not caring if I was being rude. It was my second home after all.

Alex was sitting on the couch in her living room, just as if she'd been waiting for me. Her skin wasn't pale and there were no bags beneath her eyes. Her face lit up at my arrival and her mouth broke into a wide smile. She was healthy, she was happy and she was home.

I checked to see if Carly was anywhere near before I said, "Greetings, my Queen. Your kingdom has been in mourning since your absence. Shall we give them reason to celebrate?"

"Not just yet," Alex said. She got to her feet, slowly but steadily and I had a sudden desire to rush forward and help her, but I resisted the urge. "We need to find Mr Aarons."

"Why?"

The second I spoke, a knock on the door came. Alex went to answer it. Moments later she came back into the living room with none other than Mr Aarons himself. It seemed when Alex called, Terabithia answered.

"Hello, sir," I said quietly, still slightly awed by his presence.

"Haven't I said to call me Jesse?" Mr Aarons replied. "It's Tristan, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"I just stopped by to check on Alex here. She is the reason I came to Lark Creek after all. And then what Kay told me..." Mr Aarons trailed off, his face now full of pain. I shared a quick glance with Alex. He knew. The pain on his face was so raw, so real, I felt as if I would have done anything to cheer him up. However it was Alex who said the magic words.

"Mr Aarons – I mean Jesse. Do you think you could come for a walk with us? There's something we'd like to show you."

_**So it's actually going to be 21 chapters long. I can't just leave the whole Jesse/Brandon thing unsolved. I'll try not to take months and months this time. I just need to think up an awesome last sentence. Worthy of a sequel...or not. See you soon! **___


	21. King by Blood

_**Even I had to read back over the last few chapters to see what was going on as it's been sooo long. But here we are. The end. It's time for Jesse to go back to Terabithia. **_

_Alex_

Tristan took the lead and the three of us filed out of the back door of my house and down towards the river. I could tell Mr Aarons and Tristan were going slowly for my sake. I tried speeding up but my lungs reminded me I had some oxygen to catch up on after almost drowning. Scowling, I slowed my pace.

Mr Aarons knew where we were going. He walked beside me, in casual clothes accompanied by a casual walk, but his hands were clenched at his side. It would have been years since he visited Terabithia. I wondered if he truly remembered. Maybe it had all faded into some innocent kid's game for him. But the sparkle is his eyes I had seen yesterday had me completely convinced that the spirit of the King was not dead yet.

I'd actually not prepared myself to face the river again. The rain had stopped and the river had halved its capacity as quickly as it had doubled it. Still, in my head I could hear the thunder and the falling tree. I could feel the coldness of the water and I had to take several deep breaths to remind myself I wasn't underwater. I eyed the rope evilly. I would attack it with a saw later.

We walked down the river to the bridge. Tristan crossed and so did I. Mr Aarons didn't. He just stared at the bridge.

"I made this bridge," he said shortly.

Tristan and I had guessed as much but we'd never been sure.

"I made it after – after Leslie died. I made it for myself, and my little sister. I still crossed that bridge for four years after she died, until I was 15."

He gave a small, half-smile. "It's been twenty years."

Mr Aarons was 35, then.

"Twenty long years since I've been to Tera –"

He cut himself off. Maybe he thought we wouldn't understand, think him crazy or perhaps, just like Tristan and I, he and Leslie had sworn never to speak of the kingdom we all shared.

"Terabithia," Tristan finished.

Have you ever heard the phrase 'and then their eyes widened'? I didn't really think eyes 'widened' I believed people just stared in a rather creepy manner. But Jesse, his eyes truly did widen. Perhaps we should have given him some warning. It may have let him at least catch his breath before he went and had a heart attack.

"How?" was all he managed to get out.

I opened my mouth to answer but Jesse came to his own conclusion. "The stronghold. I mean, the, ah – cubby house."

"The stronghold," I clarified, "is still there. Come on, we'll show you."

We crossed the bridge in single file. Streams of light burst through the thick foliage and the trees swayed gently in the breeze. We reached the stronghold in no time at all. We let Jesse enter first. It was quite odd to see a grown man stoop and enter the small structure, but I caught the look on his face – it was of pure joy. We gave him a moment and then he exited and began speaking.

"My father was a man of very little feeling. When I met Leslie, I had no imagination, only a view on the world as a boring cold place, from which there was no escape. Leslie showed me what it meant to be a kid, to see things no one else could see and to be whatever I wanted to be. We hunted giants, we fought great wars and she spend hours on end telling me stories while I would draw them. Terabithia was my haven, a place that I could escape to, free from everything in my life.

"When she died – a part of me died too. She had never even turned eleven, I had known her for less than a year and yet I knew I would never find another friend like her. For another few years I kept the dream alive with my little sister, but when I turned fifteen, it dawned on me: keeping Terabithia alive wasn't ever going to bring Leslie back. She was gone, I had to move on.

"And I did. I moved to Washington for college, but I was doing a course that wasn't right for me. I failed, and returned here to Lark Creek. Kay was here too and I fell in love with her. She helped me realise I had to do something I loved, so I became an artist and then the artistic director of a large company, and that's where I am today. I finally found peace." Jesse gave small smile, and Tristan and I smiled warmly back at him.

"Well good for you!" A voice rung out from our right. Brandon burst through the undergrowth, his face stained with tears and his chest rising and falling heavily. "So you got your fairytale ending and lived happily ever after with your wife and two kids. What about me, huh? What about Mum?"

Jesse stepped towards his son, arms outstretched. "Brandon, please –"

"Stay away from me! All those years, when Mum was suffering and I needed a father! All those years!"

"Brandon," I began, but there was no stopping him.

"I HATE YOU!" Brandon stumbled back and leant up against a tree, the tears flowing freely. Jesse took the opportunity.

"Returning to Lark Creek made me feel depressed and alone. But I will never, ever regret returning, because otherwise I would have never met Kay. She was a beautiful light in my darkness and I loved her more than words could ever express. She knew how what an impact Lark Creek had on me though. And for some reason, she thought I would always think of her as part of a bad memory. I left, but I intended to return." Jesse was crying now too. I didn't think I'd ever seen a grown man cry. "Then she rang me and told me not to return. She said she had found someone else. I refused to believe this, so I returned here, again. She was gone."

Jesse took another few hesitant steps towards Brandon. He reached out his hand, but Brandon flinched away.

"I never married Brandon. I never loved another. Finding out about you, only yesterday, it lit up my world. At first there were so many regrets, so many years I'd missed. Kay told me she had all the same regrets. But what was done is done, I cannot change the past. But I swear to you now, I will be exactly what you want me to be. If you want me to leave and never come back, I will accept that. If you want me to be a friend and a mentor, I will do that. And, in time, if you need a father, I promise you I will be the best father I know how to be."

There was a long silence as we all waited to hear Brandon's decision. Finally, he spoke.

"What do you call this place, again?"

"Terabithia," Tristan, Jesse and I answered in unison.

"And you were – King, weren't you? I figured that part out. You drew all the drawings."

"Yes," Jesse replied.

Brandon looked unsure of what to say next. "I draw too," he offered up.

"Somehow I knew you would."

"And you made the memorial? To Leslie?"

Jesse looked beyond Brandon, towards the trees where the clearing lay beyond. "It's still there?"

"Yes. I'll show you – Dad."

Brandon took the lead this time, followed by a beaming Mr Aarons. I was about to set off, when Tristan reached out and grabbed my hand.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing," he replied, but he didn't let go. Instead, he wove his fingers around mine and gave my hand a small squeeze. I could feel heat rising on my face, so I quickly turned away and started for the clearing. But I didn't let go.

We found Jesse kneeling at the memorial. He wasn't crying or looking sad, instead he looked peaceful.

"I still think about her. I often think she's watching me every day."

"Do you think she's behind it all?" Tristan asked. "Do you think she guided Alex, Brandon and I together, here?"

"Maybe she did." Jesse got to his knees and gave Brandon a hug. Brandon looked surprised at first, but soon hugged his father back. "Now if you three would oblige me, I think I'm not yet too old to share in your game of Terabithia."

"Game?" I said, with an mock air of wounded pride. "You of all people should know that Terabithia is a real kingdom, my king. It is no game."

Jesse smiled and looked at Brandon. "Can you hear them?"

"Who?"

"The Terabithians. There's a rumour going around that the long lost prince has returned, ready to be King."

Brandon looked warily at Tristan. "I don't know. I think Tristan might be King."

"By discovery and conquest, yes," said Tristan. "But you, you are King by blood. So, I think it's fitting we share the title."

Brandon grinned. "Let's hunt some giants."

And the four of us set off into Terabithia. I remembered back to when I had first arrived here, already hating the place before I had even gotten to know it. I remembered meeting Tristan for the first time, and how cold and mean he had been to me before the magic of Terabithia brought us together. I recalled how Brandon had first acted, the arrogant bully through and through. And I reflected on all Jesse had been through.

Terabithia had brought us all together and changed us. Maybe Leslie really was watching over us, guiding fate. Magic or no magic, without Terabithia things could have taken a turn for the worse. I may not have even lived, for if Tristan and I had never been friends he would have never saved my life.

Terabithia had already lasted a quarter of a century and I wondered how long it would continue to last. Would another generation of kids after us find it and still want to believe? I hoped so.

"Alex?" Tristan called back to me. "You are the slowest Queen I have ever known!"

"You've only ever known one Queen!"

"Details, now would you please help me with this giant?"

I took a moment to look upward to the sky and think one quick though.

_Thanks, Leslie._

**No, there won't be a sequel. I'm scrapping my old Narnia story and writing a new one. Then, maybe I'll return to Terbithia. Thanks for sticking by me, Alex, Tristan and the rest. I hoped you enjoyed the journey and discovered the Terabithian inside all of us.**

**Much love, Princess Alethea.**


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